Um! 'Twould be awkward I suppose. Pity! (hopefully,) What sort of a keyhole have you got? (Crossing to door, Right.)
ADAM CHERRY.
(Laughs.) Not much good to you, I'm afraid. You can't get the key out.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
(Who has opened the door—the key being outside—trying it.) Ah, no encouragement to an artist anywhere here. I shall have to pump the scene out of the mater afterwards, and her accounts are always so painfully idealistic.
(Ted enters.)
Hulloa, Ted!
TED MORRIS.
Hulloa! You here?