Mrs. Upjohn.
In a dressing-gown and with her hair, now very scanty, tightly screwed up. Lil——?
Lily.
Stiffening herself and speaking in a cold, level voice. Oh, I was just coming up to you, mother, to get you to undo me.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Bustling to Lily. I didn’t mean to, but I fell off. Unhooking Lily’s dress. It was the front-door I ’eard a minute ago, then? It gave me sech a start. In difficulties with the hooks. Turn more to the light, dearie. These dressmakers do it a’ purpose, I b’lieve. The ’ooks on that noo gown o’ mine are a perfect myst’ry. Wot’s this?
Lily.
Twisting her body. Oh, don’t fiddle so, mother!
Mrs. Upjohn.
You did let ’im stay a time, Lil. ’Eaps to talk over, eh?