Fanshaw. [Who has gotten papers from coat-tail pocket.] Perhaps you'd like to see them.
Mrs. Lorrimer. No, no; put them away quick. I'll see them home. I take every blessed paper. [Fanshaw up to table where he puts hat and papers.
Ethel. What are you doing—sending back wedding presents? [Crosses.
Fanshaw. Oh, I say, is that necessary?
Ethel. I don't believe I would; there are lots of things she's been dying to have.
Mrs. Lorrimer. My dear Ethel!
Fanshaw. Yes, why couldn't she—er—forget—er—overlook—er—any old thing with some of them—I mean those she wants? [Turns up, looking at presents on table.
Mrs. Lorrimer. Well, there are some things I should think she'd be glad to send back. After all, twelve dozen oyster forks are too many for a small family like a newly married couple.
Ethel. How many sugar spoons did she get?
Mrs. Lorrimer. Thirteen, which to say the least, is an unlucky number ... [Rises, puts arm about Ethel and comes left.] and there's that bankrupt stock of piano lamps. [Crosses to sofa; sits on sofa with Ethel. Fanshaw comes down.