ROBERT.
I will wait.
[Richard comes back from the study.]
BERTHA.
[Going.] I must put these roses in water.
RICHARD.
[Handing her his hat.] Yes, do. And please put my hat on the rack.
BERTHA.
[Takes it.] So I will leave you to yourselves for your talk. [Looking round.] Do you want anything? Cigarettes?
RICHARD.
Thanks. We have them here.
BERTHA.
Then I can go?
[She goes out on the left with Richard’s hat, which she leaves in the hall, and returns at once; she stops for a moment at the davenport, replaces the slip in the drawer, locks it, and replaces the key, and, taking the roses, goes towards the right. Robert precedes her to open the door for her. She bows and goes out.]
RICHARD.
[Points to the chair near the little table on the right.] Your place of honour.
ROBERT.
[Sits down.] Thanks. [Passing his hand over his brow.] Good Lord, how warm it is today! The heat pains me here in the eye. The glare.