FERRAND. 'Tres bien, Monsieur'. I comprehend. One must well be regular in this life.
WELLWYN. [With a start.] Lord! [He looks at the door of the model's room.] I'd forgotten——
FERRAND. Can I undertake anything, Monsieur?
WELLWYN. No, no! [He goes to the electric light switch by the outer door.] You won't want this, will you?
FERRAND. 'Merci, Monsieur'.
[WELLWYN switches off the light.]
FERRAND. 'Bon soir, Monsieur'!
WELLWYN. The devil! Er—good-night!
[He hesitates, rumples his hair, and passes rather suddenly
away.]
FERRAND. [To himself.] Poor pigeon! [Looking long at old TIMSON]
'Espece de type anglais!'