Miss Fairfield. But I really couldn’t sit in the drawing-room. There’s no fire. [She sits down and opens her book.]
Sydney. [In a soft little voice, hums] “When we are married we’ll have sausages for tea.”
Miss Fairfield. Do you mind being quiet while I read the service?
Sydney. Sorry! [She takes up some knitting.]
Miss Fairfield. What are you doing?
Sydney. Tie for Kit.
Miss Fairfield. Sydney! Needlework on Sunday!
Sydney. Well, I can’t sit in the drawing-room either if there’s no fire.
Miss Fairfield. There’s no need to lose your temper.
Sydney. [Out of patience] Here, I’m going. [As she makes for the staircase the telephone gives a broken tinkle.]