MARGARET. What about?
BOBBY. Oh, nothing. At least— How are you?
MARGARET. [passing round the other end of the table and putting down on it a copy of Lloyd's Weekly and her purse-bag] Quite well, thank you. How did you enjoy Brighton?
BOBBY. Brighton! I wasnt at— Oh yes, of course. Oh, pretty well. Is your aunt all right?
MARGARET. My aunt! I suppose so. I havent seen her for a month.
BOBBY. I thought you were down staying with her.
MARGARET. Oh! was that what they told you?
BOBBY. Yes. Why? Werent you really?
MARGARET. No. Ive something to tell you. Sit down and lets be comfortable.
She sits on the edge of the table. He sits beside her, and puts his arm wearily round her waist.