DAN (putting the bottle on the floor beside him): Poor old mum, runnin' about lookin' for Danny——
MRS. BRAMSON (sharply): I wasn't running about as much as all that … Oh, the relief when I saw your face——
DAN: I bet you wasn't half glad, eh?
MRS. BRAMSON: You're the only one that understands me, Danny, that's what you are——
DAN (patting her): That's right——
MRS. BRAMSON: I don't have to tell you everything I've been through. I don't have to tell you about my husband, how unkind and ungodly he was—I wouldn't have minded so much him being ungodly, but oh, he was unkind … (Sipping) And I don't have to tell you how unkind he was. You know. You just know … whatever else I've not been, I was always a great one on psychology.
DAN: You was. (He takes her glass and fills it again and his own.)
MRS. BRAMSON: I'm glad those other people have gone. Awful screeching common women. Answer back, answer back, answer back…. Isn't it time for my medicine?
He hands her glass back. They both drink. DAN sits smiling and nodding at her.
That day you said to me about me reminding you of your mother…. (DAN slowly begins to roll up his sleeves a little way.) These poets and rubbishy people can think all they like about their verses and sonnets and such—that girl Olivia writes sonnets—would you believe it—