Esther.
[Gently.] But he might meet a policeman, George.
George.
Ah! that’s another matter. Perhaps I’d better see the beast into a cab.
Esther.
[Sighing.] Ah, you never understood poor father!
[A crash is heard from the hall as Eccles lurches heavily and upsets the hat-stand. George throws up his hands in despair at the wreck of the hall furniture—or, perhaps, at the obtuseness of his wife’s last remark—and goes out to call a cab.
Curtain.