mary. Phoebe, they're coming . . and I forgot one of the blinds in the drawing room.
phoebe. Well, pull it up quick and make yourself scarce. I'll open the door.
mary got rid of, phoebe composes her face still more rigorously into the aspect of formal grief and with a touch to her apron as well goes to admit the funeral party. The first to enter are mrs. voysey and mr. booth, she on his arm; and the fact that she is in widow's weeds makes the occasion clear. The little old man leads his old friend very tenderly.
mr. george booth. Will you come in here?
mrs. voysey. Thank you.
With great solicitude he puts her in a chair; then takes her hand.
mr. george booth. Now I'll intrude no longer.
mrs. voysey. You'll take some lunch?
mr. george booth. No.