[The owner of the head comes into the room. Gwen, the daughter; twenty-four years old, and very attractive. She comes straight to the table, picks up the keys, and unlocks a cupboard in a handsome sideboard.
Mrs. Freeman: Shut the door, dear.
[Gwen goes and shuts the door.
It’s cold.
[Gwen returns to the cupboard.
Gwen: Which?
Mr. Freeman: Benedictine.... No. Chartreuse.
Gwen: Green?
Mr. Freeman: Yellow.... What’s the time? (But he gets no answer.) Nobody in this house ever knows what the time is. (So he looks at his own watch.) D’Ha! He won’t be back to dinner now.... (He selects a cigar from a box on the table) ... preposterous.
Mrs. Freeman: You’re worried.