ST. OLPHERTS. [Rising promptly.] Good God! I beg your pardon. A friend?
AGNES. Yes.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Looking at GERTRUDE, critically.] Very nice. [Still looking at GERTRUDE, but speaking to AGNES in undertones.] Married or—? [Turning to AGNES.] Married or—?
GERTRUDE. [To LUCAS, looking around.] It is draughty at this table.
LUCAS. [Going to the table near the settee, and collecting the writing materials.] Here—[AGNES joins GERTRUDE.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [Quietly to LUCAS.] Lucas—[LUCAS goes to him.] Who's that gal?
LUCAS. [To ST. OLPHERTS.] An hotel acquaintance we made in Florence—
Mrs Thorpe.
ST. OLPHERTS. Where's the husband?
LUCAS. A widow.
ST. OLPHERTS. You might—[GERTRUDE advances with the tray.]