Margaret. [At the door, wistfully] It isn’t too good to be true, is it?
Gray. The furs?
Margaret. Everything! You—oh, what a fool I am! [You hear Gray’s laugh answering hers as they go out together, and the sound of the motor driving away.]
Sydney. [Subsiding on to the sofa, to Kit, who has come in as the others go] I thought they’d never get off. Mother has a way of standing around and gently fussing—I tell you I’ll be glad when next week’s over.
Kit. So’ll I. I haven’t had a look in lately.
Sydney. [With an intimate glance] Not last night? But it has been a job, running Mother. I’m bridesmaid and best man and family lawyer and Juliet’s nurse all rolled into one—and a sort of lightning conductor for Aunt Hester into the bargain. That’s why I’ve had so little time for you. It’s quite true what Gray was saying just now—Mother is nineteenth century. She’s sweet and helpless, but she’s obstinate too. My word, the time she took making up her mind to get that divorce!
Kit. It’s just about that that I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You see—
Sydney. Well?
Kit. You see—
Sydney. Hurry up, old thing!