Bland.
To Jimmie. Bring you anything?
Jimmie.
Wrapping the puff in the handkerchief tenderly and slipping it into her bosom. A liqueur of petrol and a lucifer-match.
Bland.
Leaving her. Oh, go on!
Mrs. Stidulph.
To Von Rettenmayer. And then to give it all up, as I was idiot enough to do when I married, and for a life as dull as ditch-water! If ever a woman sacrificed herself in this world——!
Fulkerson and Daphne enter at the door on the left and hurry to the counter.
Fulkerson.