ALICE. Oh, yes. Go on. Blame me that the place is all at sixes and sevens. (Coming down to desk.)
VICKEY. I don't blame you. I know as well as you do that it's father's fault. He ought to look after his business himself instead of wasting more time than ever in the "Moonraker's," but you needn't be snappy with me about it.
ALICE. I'm not snappy in myself. (Sitting at desk.) It's these figures. I can't get them right. What's 17 and 25?
VICKEY (promptly). Fifty-two, of course.
ALICE. Well, it doesn't balance right. Oh, I wish I was married and out of it. (Closes book.)
VICKEY. Same here.
ALICE. You! (Rises.)
VICKEY. You needn't think you're the only one.
ALICE. Well, you're sly, Vickey Hobson. You've kept it to yourself.
VICKEY. It's just as well now that I did. Maggie's spoilt our chances for ever. Nobody's fretting to get Willie Mossop for a brother-in-law.