Michael.
Will you kindly keep the flies off Patricia’s face while I’m away?
Dean.
Oh, delighted! Delighted!
(Michael goes out. Mrs. O’Farrel looks with amusement at the Dean, who stands with the twig in his hand glancing quizzically at her and longingly at Lady Patricia.)
Mrs. O’Farrel.
When duty and pleasure are combined, there’s no reason to hesitate. I saw a fly settle on Patricia’s chin.
Dean.
Happy fly!
(He tiptoes up to Patricia and starts fanning her and daintily examining her through his eyeglass. Mrs. O’Farrel puts up her lorgnette and regards them with vast amusement. Suddenly a rotten branch falls from above on to the platform.)