The telegram is official—it’s—is Robert wounded? (Tears open the telegram.)
Gordon.
Killed! (Lets telegram fall, and staggers forward to chair, all are silent.)
Nora.
(Crying softly.) Oh Robert, Robert, Robert!
(Loveday tries to soothe her and is sad also. Roto sniffs. The collie dog comes up to the group, looking from one to the other, then goes to Gordon and rubs against him licking his hand. Gordon pats him.)
Gordon.
Good old chap. Yes, he’ll never come back. Your master is dead—died a hero’s death.
Varlie.
(Comes up and shakes Gordon’s hand.) Accept my condolences.