Rodney. I don’t know yet. I’m going upstairs to pack a suit-case and think. (Crosses to R.) I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. (He grabs her and kisses her hastily but heartily)
Mary. Oh, oh—please——
Rodney. Don’t mind, Mary. You’ll get used to ’em. (Exits door lower R.)
(She goes over and raps three times on the door through which Martin left, and backs away from it. She stands there expectantly. In a moment Martin tiptoes in with no trace of a limp. She puts her fingers to her lips to indicate silence, and points off-stage R. to indicate where Rodney has gone. Martin tiptoes nearer, nodding his head, questioning and eager. Mary smilingly nods her head in reply.)
Martin. (In stage-whisper) You mean our scheme worked?
Mary. (Delighted) Yes, yes.
Martin. You really have got him to go to work?
Mary. I have!
Martin. (Gleefully) By George, that’s great!
Mary. Isn’t it!