Clare.
No—one and a pinafore. Oh, confound this branch!... I think the pater would draw the line at two frocks.
(She descends into view, and jumps on to the ground. She is sadly dishevelled, her gloves filthy, her dress all open at the back, and with a great tear at the side of the skirt.)
At last!... Hullo, Baldwin, I thought you had gone....
Baldwin.
No, miss.
Michael.
What are you doing here, Baldwin?
Baldwin.