MRS. BRAMSON (suddenly): Danny, d'you think Olivia's a thief?
DAN: Shouldn't be surprised.
MRS. BRAMSON: What!
DAN: Her eyes wasn't very wide apart.
MRS. BRAMSON (working herself up): Goodness me … my jewel-box … what a fool I was to let her go—my earrings … the double-faced—
She wheels herself furiously into her bedroom. DORA, her hat and coat on, comes in from the kitchen in time to see her go.
DORA: What's up with her?
DAN (still at his paper): Thinks she's been robbed.
DORA: Oh, is that all…. That's the fourth time this month she's thought that. One of these days something will 'appen to her, and will I be pleased? Oh, baby!… Where's Mrs. Terence?
DAN: Gone, I think.