Then good-bye. [Aside to her.] Be true to your own good heart. Your dear mother was—sometimes. [He kisses her, and then goes to Parbury.] Good-bye, Clement. [Aside to him.] Bear up; I’ve been there myself. [He goes—aside at door.] Rather tactful, I think—rather tactful.
[Exit L.
[There is a constrained silence. Mrs. Parbury is particularly uneasy. After a moment Parbury rises, lights a cigarette, and stands at mantelpiece.
Mrs. Parbury.
Am I in the way, dear? Do you want to work?
Parbury.
No. [Rises, goes up R.] To-day must be a holiday.
Mrs. Parbury.
Holidays are meant to be happy days.