COLONEL. [Alarmed.] Hallo, Molly! Are n't you feeling the thing, old girl?
MISS BEECH. Let her get some air, poor creature!
COLONEL. [Who follows anxiously.] Your Aunt's got some first-rate sal volatile.
MRS. GWYN. It's all right, Uncle Tom. I felt giddy, it's nothing, now.
COLONEL. That's the dancing. [He taps his forehead.] I know what it is when you're not used to it.
MRS. GWYN. [With a sudden bitter outburst.] I suppose you think I 'm a very bad mother to be amusing myself while joy's suffering.
COLONEL. My dear girl, whatever put such a thought into your head? We all know if there were anything you could do, you'd do it at once, would n't she, Peachey?
[MISS BEECH turns a slow look on MRS. GWYN.]
MRS. GWYN. Ah! you see, Peachey knows me better.
COLONEL. [Following up his thoughts.] I always think women are wonderful. There's your Aunt, she's very funny, but if there's anything the matter with me, she'll sit up all night; but when she's ill herself, and you try to do anything for her, out she raps at once.