Westrip.
[Advancing.] I thought she'd like to look through these. [Showing Miss Tracer the press-cuttings.] From the press-cutting agency.
Miss Tracer.
[Picking up her note-book and rising.] You bet she would!
Westrip.
[Handing her the press-cuttings.] Let me have them back again, please. Sir Randle hardly had time to glance at them before he went out.
Miss Tracer.
[Inquisitively, elevating her eyebrows.] He's out very early?
Westrip.
Yes; he's gone to a memorial service.