[HILLCRIST who has stood for a moment stock-still, goes slowly
forward and sits in his swivel chair.]
MRS. H. Dawker, please tell Fellows to telephone to Dr. Robinson to go round to the Hornblowers at once.
[DAWKER, fingering the deed, and with a noise that sounds like
"The cur!" goes out, Left.]
[At the fireplace]
Jack! Do you blame me?
HILLCRIST. [Motionless] No.
MRS. H. Or Dawker? He's done his best.
HILLCRIST. No.
MRS. H. [Approaching] What is it?
HILLCRIST. Hypocrite!