[Then, seeing that TIMSON and the curious persons have again
opened the door, he drives them out, and stands with his back
against it. MRS. MEGAN comes to herself.]
WELLWYN. [Sitting on the dais and supporting her—as if to a child.] There you are, my dear. There, there—better now! That's right. Drink a little more of this tea.
[MRS. MEGAN drinks from the decanter.]
FERRAND. [Rising.] Bring her to the fire, Monsieur.
[They take her to the fire and seat her on the little stool. From the moment of her restored animation FERRAND has resumed his air of cynical detachment, and now stands apart with arms folded, watching.]
WELLWYN. Feeling better, my child?
MRS. MEGAN. Yes.
WELLWYN. That's good. That's good. Now, how was it? Um?
MRS. MEGAN. I dunno. [She shivers.] I was standin' here just now when you was talkin', and when I heard 'im, it cam' over me to do it—like.
WELLWYN. Ah, yes I know.