CAROLINE [to Antonin] You won’t forget the letter for M. Courthezon, will you, M. Antonin.
ANTONIN. Of course not.
CAROLINE. If you write I feel sure he will succeed.
ANTONIN. Yes, yes, I know.
CAROLINE. I will go to Julie.
ANTONIN. You’d much better go and put on another dress or something. Just to smarten yourself up. The Pouchelets are coming. We must all look our best.
CAROLINE [rather aghast, looking at her clothes] But—[A pause]. Very well. [She goes out].
LIGNOL. Who is that lady? She never spoke a word all through dinner.
ANTONIN [carelessly] A poor relation. The usual thing, an old maid, always at church. Awfully prim and proper, you know. [Rather shamefaced] In fact—I don’t mind telling you—she really works for her living.
LIGNOL. Well, why not? There’s nothing dishonorable about that, is there?