TWISDEN. [Pouring some tea into the saucer] Without knowing, I can't tell you.
WINSOR and MARGARET exchange looks, and TWISDEN drinks from the
saucer. MARGARET. Tell him, Charles.
WINSOR. Well! It rained that evening at Meldon. The General happened to put his hand on Dancy's shoulder, and it was damp.
TWISDEN puts the saucer down and replaces the cup in it. They both
look intently at him.
TWISDEN. I take it that General Canynge won't say anything he's not compelled to say.
MARGARET. No, of course; but, Mr Jacob, they might ask; they know it rained. And he is such a George Washington.
TWISDEN. [Toying with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses] They didn't ask either of you. Still-no harm in your telling Dancy.
WINSOR. I'd rather you did it, Margaret.
MARGARET. I daresay. [She mechanically takes out her cigarette-case, catches the lift of TWISDEN'S eyebrows, and puts it back].
WINSOR. Well, we'll go together. I don't want Mrs Dancy to hear.