Hush! they’re coming.
(The voices approach. Lady Patricia arranges herself, one hand supporting her face, the other hanging over the side of the chair lightly holding a manuscript. Mrs. O’Farrel enters, followed by Clare Lesley, Dean Lesley, and Michael Cosway. Mrs. O’Farrel is a genuine, downright, humorous lady of fifty-seven; Clare Lesley, the Dean’s daughter, a pretty girl of about twenty; Dean Lesley, a clerical exquisite, who carries his sixty years as lightly as his silver-knobbed stick and monocle; and Michael Cosway, Lady Patricia’s husband, a tall, serious man of thirty-eight.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
(Out of breath.) Ah.... I’m green with envy of you, Dean! You’re at least five years my senior, and your wind is as sound as your doctrines. Look at me! I can’t climb a tree without getting—what’s the word, Clare?
Clare.
Punctured.
Dean.
My dear child!
Mrs. O’Farrel.