The deafened Count puts his fingers in his ears and flies from the centre of the group to its outskirts, behind Vaughan.
BANNAL. [sulkily] Oh, very well. Sorry I spoke, I'm sure.
TROTTER. | Shaw— |
| | [beginning again
VAUGHAN. | Shaw— | simultaneously]
| |
GUNN. | Shaw— |
They are cut short by the entry of Fanny through the curtains. She is almost in tears.
FANNY. [coming between Trotter and Gunn] I'm so sorry, gentlemen. And it was such a success when I read it to the Cambridge Fabian Society!
TROTTER. Miss O'Dowda: I was about to tell these gentlemen what I guessed before the curtain rose: that you are the author of the play. [General amazement and consternation].
FANNY. And you all think it beastly. You hate it. You think I'm a conceited idiot, and that I shall never be able to write anything decent.
She is almost weeping. A wave of sympathy carries away the critics.
VAUGHAN. No, no. Why, I was just saying that it must have been written by Pinero. Didnt I, Gunn?
FANNY. [enormously flattered] Really?