Mrs. Dermott. Danny darling, it's all too dreadful—I can't believe it.
Bobbie (rising). But, uncle, I thought sleeping sickness polished you off in one night.
Daniel (embarrassed). So it does, but that one night won't happen to me for three years. The doctor says so. He knows. You see I've got it internally or something.
Mrs. Dermott (firmly). You must never go back there—you shall stay with us until—until—the end——
(She breaks down, sobs on Daniel's shoulder.)
Sylvia (goes behind Chesterfield). Oh, mother darling, don't cry. (She looks at Daniel rather angrily.)
Daniel (rising). I'm sorry I have upset you, Anne. But I have told you this to-day with a purpose in my mind. (Moving to C.)
Oliver. A purpose?
Daniel (L. of arm-chair). Yes, I have a few words to say to you all—words which, though they may sound a little mercenary, are in reality prompted by very deep feeling.
Mrs. Dermott. Poor Danny.