Miss Moon.
Good morning.
[The young lady pays Miss Limbird and goes, followed by her maid.]
Miss Huddle.
[To Miss Moon] What time is it, dear?
Miss Moon.
[Putting her table in order.] Half-past one. Lunch-time.
Thought so; I've sech a vacancy.
[Miss Huddle goes out, carrying her bowl and towel, as Frank Pollitt—"Valma"—appears at the window on the left—a well, if rather showily, dressed young fellow, wearing a frock coat, white waistcoat, and patent-leather boots. He is handsome in a commonplace way, and, though stilted and self-conscious, earnest in speech and bearing.