DAN: Well, it's no good her thinkin' she's got any, is it?
MRS. BRAMSON (sternly). Now, young man, what about Dora? I—
DAN: Wait a minute … (Putting his hat on the table and going to her) Are you sure you're comfortable like that? Don't you think, Mrs. Bramson, you ought to be facin' … a wee bit more this side, towards the sun more, eh? (He moves her chair round till she is in the centre of the room, facing the sun-room) You're looking pale, you know. (As she stares at him, putting the stub in an ashtray on the table) I am sorry. Excuse rudeness … Another thing, Mrs. Bramson—you don't mind me sayin' it, do you?—but you ought to have a rug, you know. This October weather's very treacherous.
MRS. BRAMSON (blinking): Pale? Did you say pale?
DAN: Washed out. (His wiles fully turned on, but not overdone in the slightest) The minute I saw you just now, I said to myself, now there's a lady that's got a lot to contend with.
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh … Well, I have. Nobody knows it better than me.
DAN: No, I'm sure … Oh, it must be terrible to watch everybody else striding up and down enjoying everything, and to see everybody tasting the fruit—
As she looks at him, appreciation of what he is saying grows visibly in her face.
I'm sorry … (Diffidently) I didn't ha' ought to say that.
MRS. BRAMSON: But it's true! As true as you are my witness, and nobody else—(Pulling herself together) Now look here, about that girl—