ANN. [With a sort of groan.] Oh! Daddy!
[In the renewed silence, the church clock ceases to chime.]
FERRAND. [Softly, in his ironic voice.] HE is come, Monsieur! 'Appy Christmas! Bon Noel!
[There is a sudden chime of bells. The Stage is blotted dark.] Curtain.
ACT II
It is four o'clock in the afternoon of New Year's Day. On the raised dais MRS. MEGAN is standing, in her rags; with bare feet and ankles, her dark hair as if blown about, her lips parted, holding out a dishevelled bunch of violets. Before his easel, WELLWYN is painting her. Behind him, at a table between the cupboard and the door to the model's room, TIMSON is washing brushes, with the movements of one employed upon relief works. The samovar is hissing on the table by the stove, the tea things are set out.
WELLWYN. Open your mouth.
[MRS. MEGAN opens her mouth.]
ANN. [In hat and coat, entering from the house.] Daddy!