MRS DUBEDAT [tortured] Louis—dearest—
LOUIS. My darling: I’m very weak and tired. Dont put on me the horrible strain of pretending that I dont know. Ive been lying there listening to the doctors—laughing to myself. They know. Dearest: dont cry. It makes you ugly; and I cant bear that. [She dries her eyes and recovers herself with a proud effort]. I want you to promise me something.
MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, yes: you know I will. [Imploringly] Only, my love, my love, dont talk: it will waste your strength.
LOUIS. No: it will only use it up. Ridgeon: give me something to keep me going for a few minutes—one of your confounded anti-toxins, if you dont mind. I have some things to say before I go.
RIDGEON [looking at Sir Patrick] I suppose it can do no harm? [He pours out some spirit, and is about to add soda water when Sir Patrick corrects him].
SIR PATRICK. In milk. Dont set him coughing.
LOUIS [after drinking] Jennifer.
MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear.
LOUIS. If theres one thing I hate more than another, it’s a widow. Promise me that youll never be a widow.
MRS DUBEDAT. My dear, what do you mean?