KATHERINE. [Quickly] Let me see—I have your address. [Holding out her hand to WREFORD] We'll look after her.
OLIVE. [In a loud whisper] Shall I lend him my toffee?
KATHERINE. If you like, dear. [To WREFORD] Now take care of my brother and yourself, and we'll take care of her.
WREFORD. Ye—as, M'.
He then looks rather wretchedly at his girl, as if the interview had not done so much for him as he had hoped. She drops a little curtsey. WREFORD salutes.
OLIVE. [Who has taken from the bureau a packet, places it in his hand] It's very nourishing!
WREFORD. Thank you, miss.
Then, nudging each other, and entangled in their feelings and the conventions, they pass out, shepherded by NURSE.
KATHERINE. Poor things!
OLIVE. What is an anti-patriot, stop-the-war one, Mummy?