MRS. BRAMSON (as he digs her in the side): Oh, Danny, you are a terror! (To the others) He's been at me like this all the way. I must say it keeps me alive.
DAN (as she hands him her hat and cape): But you feel dead. I get you.
MRS. BRAMSON (kittenish): Oh, you caution! You'll be the death of me!
DAN (wagging his finger at her): Ah-ha! (Hanging up her things in the hall) Now what'd you like a drop of in your tea—gin, whisky, liqueur, brandy, or a nice dollop of sailor's rum, eh?
MRS. BRAMSON: Just listen to him! Now don't make me laugh, dear, because there's always my heart.
DAN (sitting beside her again): You've lost your heart, you know you have, to the little feller that pushes your pram—you know you have!
MRS. BRAMSON (laughing shrilly): Pram! Well! (Her laugh cut short) It's wicked to laugh, with this—this thing all round us.
DAN (sobering portentously): I forgot. (As she shivers) Not in a draught, are you? (Shutting the front door and coming down to HUBERT) D'you remember, Mr. Laurie, me pulling your leg about you havin' done it? Funniest thing out!… Talk about laugh!
MRS. BRAMSON (fondly): Tttt!…
DAN (a glint of mischief in his eyes): I think I better get the tea before I get into hot water.