Dor. Fact is, friend of mine has just turned up, and he's unusual thirsty. Would you bring him out a whiskey and potash?
Car. Certainly.
Dor. Very kind of you—extr'ordinary kind.
Car. Not at all. (she disappears from window. Dorvaston goes back to Crayll)
Dor. Look here, I'll run up and put another coat on, and then we'll start.
Cray. How about the whiskey?
Dor. It'll be here directly. (exits through French window)
Cray. Thank ye. (he resumes the newspaper; Cook comes to table R. with small tray containing whiskey, etc.; she brings it down to small table, and speaks before putting the tray down)
Car. Whiskey and potash!
Cray. All right! (he puts down cigar on tray and turns slowly, the paper falls. They face each other in mutual astonishment)