Bea. Confide in your chemist. Make some ridiculous excuse—say that the family cat is in convulsions—and they will sell you nothing. They know it’s absurd. Say that you want to improve your complexion, and they will sell you anything; they know it’s the truth.
Kate. My dear Mrs. Selwyn—for this information much thanks. (moves towards door, R.U.E.)
Bea. Where are you going?
Kate. To the chemist’s.
Enter Lord Normantower, R.U.D.
Nor. May I come in? (comes well on stage, R.C.)
Kate. (up C.) It seems to me you’ve come. (between Normantower and Beatrice)
Nor. Yes; when I want to do anything particularly, I do it first and ask permission afterwards. It prevents disappointment, and it’s so very easy to apologise.
Bea. In this case no apology is needed.
Nor. (starting) Mrs. Selwyn! excuse me for not seeing you. (crosses down to Beatrice, standing R. of sofa. Kate turns up and resumes watering plants, R.C.) How is Philip to-day?