[Mrs. Holroyd starts up, turns and flings her hand in the direction of the open door, where appears a man in blue overalls, swarfed and greased. He carries a dinner-basket.
MRS. HOLROYD
You—you—I don't know what to call you! The idea of shouting at me like that—like the Evil One out of the darkness!
BLACKMORE
I ought to have remembered your tender nerves. Shall I come in?
MRS. HOLROYD
No—not for your impudence. But you're late, aren't you?
BLACKMORE
It's only just gone six. We electricians, you know, we're the gentlemen on a mine: ours is gentlemen's work. But I'll bet Charles Holroyd was home before four.
MRS. HOLROYD (bitterly)