Thor. In fact, after to-morrow——
Lucy. Oh, Harry, do shut up a minute. You object to shams, how is a properly organised household to be carried on without 'em? (sits R. of breakfast table) Suppose I'm up to my neck in something important—putting finishing touches to a new ball-dress, we'll say—and some female horror calls—mustn't I be out because I happen to be at home? Deviation from the truth! My dear boy, I should deviate for all I was worth. So you got my letter?
Thor. Yes.
Lucy. And your answer?
Thor. I posted it in our usual letter box. (going to tree)
Lucy. All right, I'll get it directly. Does it give full directions?
Thor. I think so. (comes C.)
Lucy. Got the special license?
Thor. Yes. (makes to embrace her, she puts him off and points to windows)
Lucy. You've arranged with old Bristowe?