Elizabeth. We had an extra enthusiastic meeting. She spoke for rather a long time. I made her come home with me and lie down. I think she is all right now.
Lady Mogton. Would you like to see a doctor?
Phoebe. There is a very good man close here. (She turns to Jawbones, who is still near the window.) Gordon—
Annys. (Interrupting.) No. Please don’t. I am quite all right. I hate strange doctors.
Phoebe. Well, let me send for Whitby; he could be here in twenty minutes.
Annys. I wish you would all leave me alone. There’s absolutely nothing to fuss about whatever. We pampered women—we can’t breathe the same air that ordinary mortals have to. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves.
Phoebe. (To herself.) Obstinate pig.
(She catches Jawbones’ eye; unnoticed by the others, she takes him aside. They whisper.)
Annys. How is it going?
Lady Mogton. You must be prepared for winning. (She puts again the question that Annys has frequently been asked to answer during the last few days.) What are you going to do?