Miss Woodward.
[Moves as if she had received a blow, and clasps her hands together.] I am not going home.
Mrs. Parbury.
Oh, indeed you are. You don’t suppose you can stay here, do you?
Miss Woodward.
Why shouldn’t I?
Mrs. Parbury.
How dare you ask that when I have just caught you in the act of kissing my husband’s photograph?
Miss Woodward.
That was in a moment of abstraction. I wasn’t even thinking of Mr. Parbury.