JOHN BEAL
Wouldn't worry? But, good Lord, the situation's impossible. People would talk. Don't you see what people would say? And where could they go? Who would look after them? Do try and understand how awful it is. But it isn't. It's impossible. It can't be them. For heaven's sake run out and see if it is; and (good Lord!) I haven't brushed my hair all day, and, and—oh, look at me.
[He rushes to camp mirror. Exit ARCHIE.
JOHN BEAL tidies up desperately.
Enter ARCHIE.]
ARCHIE BEAL
It's what you call THEM.
JOHN BEAL
What I call THEM? Whatever do you mean?
ARCHIE BEAL