Florence. Oh, yes, very well indeed; although hardly as I had anticipated; thanks to her husband and your lies. [He blows out the imaginary match and tosses it onto the floor at the right; then snaps his head around and glares at Florence. Mrs. Pampinelli glances down onto the floor, as though to assure herself that Mr. Hossefrosse hasn’t really thrown a lighted match onto the carpet.] You’ve evidently told this boy here that Mrs. Rush is your wife.
Hossefrosse. I’ve told him nothing of the kind! [He starts to cross again to the right, but Mrs. Pampinelli is again right in his pathway, standing in front of the table below the piano.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Stepping below him, and going a step or two nearer Florence] I beg your pardon.
Hossefrosse. I beg your pardon. [He continues over to the table below the window at the right and stands there, pretending to smoke.]
Florence. Then, you’ve allowed him to think so.
Hossefrosse. [Looking straight ahead] That’s business.
Florence. Perhaps it is. It has at least allowed you to be present at the passing of Mrs. Rush. [She turns and goes towards the back. Mrs. Ritter calls her to her and they start discussing the hang of Florence’s skirt.]
Hossefrosse. [Whirling around] You are deliberately misinterpreting this situation! [He starts to move across towards her, passing between the piano and table.] Yes you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous that a physician cannot take a woman patient without being subjected to the whisperings of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers! [Nelly Fell goes into violent laughter at something Ritter has just finished telling her. Florence and Mrs. Ritter continue their discussion of the dress, and Mrs. Pampinelli tries by dint of gesturing to attract Florence’s attention.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. Florence dear, please.
Florence. [Turning suddenly, and continuing her lines] Oh, I beg your pardon! [She moves slowly towards the mantelpiece.] This is not a romantic age, Clyde.