Rosie: I don’t know, sir.
Mr. Freeman: Is this thing mended?
Rosie: I don’t know, sir.
[Mr. Freeman gets up and blows in the speaking-tube like an amateur trombonist or an irritated typhoon—and listens ... evidently no answer ... another blow ... and another ... then another listen ... still no answer ... he hangs back the tube and flings from the room ... slamming the door after him ... he returns to pick up the offending letter from the table and bear it with him from the room.... Rosie remains, sniffing pathetically ... she creeps from the room.
Curtain
End of Act I
ACT II
ACT II
Upstairs
The attic that has been in turn John’s nursery, his school-room, and is now his flat. Plain distempered walls; a few pictures—some reproductions of Orpen and Augustus John, and of a Nevinson war picture called “The Doctor”; books; some statuettes; a baby grand piano, littered with manuscript music; two tennis racquets and plenty of comfortable places to sit. The fire-place, which has been converted to a gas-stove, is in the middle of the footlights—that is to say it is imagined—but the chairs are placed so that a group sitting round the imagined gas-fire, sit directly facing the audience, and quite intimately close to the footlights. Two doors; one into his bedroom, the other on to the landing at the head of the staircase.