Phoebe. Well—
Janet (To Elizabeth.) Well—I want you to put me down as a contributor for twelve-and-six. (She smiles.) It’s the only way I can give.
Phoebe. (She is taking off Janet’s cloak; throws it to Hake.) Have this put somewhere to dry. (She pushes Janet to the fire.) Get near the fire. You’re as cold as ice.
Elizabeth. All the seats inside, I suppose, occupied by the chivalrous sex.
Janet. Oh, there was one young fellow offered to give me up his place, but I wouldn’t let him. You see, we’re claiming equality. (Smiles.)
Elizabeth. And are being granted it—in every direction where it works to the convenience of man.
Phoebe. (Laughs.) Is she coming—the Villiers woman?
Janet. Yes. I ran her down at last—at her dress-maker’s. She made an awful fuss about it, but I wouldn’t leave till she’d promised. Tell me, it’s something quite important, isn’t it?
Phoebe. I don’t know anything, except that I had an urgent telegram from mamma this morning to call a meeting of the entire Council here at three o’clock. She’s coming up from Manchester on purpose. (To Hake.) Mrs. Chilvers hasn’t returned yet, has she?
Hake. Not yet, miss. Shall I telephone—