Daniel. Not at all, not at all—it's a pleasure, I assure you.
Evangeline (on stairs). It doesn't matter a bit. Uncle Daniel is going to stay with us a long time, I hope.
(Exit upstairs.)
Mrs. Crombie (settling herself in arm-chair). Splendid—have you such a thing as a cigarette?
Daniel. A cigarette, yes, certainly.
Mrs. Crombie. And a match.
Daniel. And a match.
(He hands her a case, she takes one, goes to mantel for matches—then he strikes a match and lights it.)
Mrs. Crombie (girlishly). Now we can be quite comfortable, can't we?
Daniel. Quite. (Sits on Chesterfield.)