[John comes in and begins hunting about.
Gwen: What is it?
John: Have you seen a dress about?
Frankie: A dress! What sort of a dress?
John: A little blue one.
Frankie (holding it out at arm’s length): This?
John: Yes. Thank you.
[He takes it from her and retires again with it.... Gwen hovers miserably. Frankie is rock-like.
Gwen (by the door—persuasively): Come on.
[The other shakes her head.... John comes back, shutting the door after him.