WELLWYN. [Turning from the door, where he has stood looking after the receding TIMSON.] Poor old Timson!
FERRAND. [Softly.] Must be philosopher, Monsieur! They will but run him in a little.
[From the model's room MRS. MEGAN has come out, shepherded by CANON BERTLEY.]
BERTLEY. Let's see, your Christian name is——.
MRS. MEGAN. Guinevere.
BERTLEY. Oh! Ah! Ah! Ann, take Gui—take our little friend into the study a minute: I am going to put her into service. We shall make a new woman of her, yet.
ANN. [Handing CANON BERTLEY the brush, and turning to MRS. MEGAN.] Come on!
[She leads into the house, and MRS. MEGAN follows Stolidly.]
BERTLEY. [Brushing CALWAY'S back.] Have you fallen?
CALWAY. Yes.