Sir P. My dear young gentleman, have you lived six and twenty years without discovering that the female complexion is usually an artificial product?
Nor. Well, I know a powder-puff when I see one, but arsenic! (turns up a little C. with Kate)
Sir P. Pooh! a common drug!
Bea. Miss Derwent, so sorry to trouble you—but the night dews are falling, and Mildred has gone out without a shawl.
Kate. I’ll get one at once. (exit, R., upper door)
Nor. Yes—we’ll get one at once. (exit, R.U.D.)
(Directly Normantower is off, Price and Servant re-enter, R.U.D., with coffee, which they offer to Beatrice, who is sitting R. by piano.)
Phil. I must say, I agree with Normantower. When you told me what you were giving me, it was rather a shock even to me, and it nearly frightened poor Beatrice out of her life.
Bea. Philip, don’t speak of it. (takes coffee) Don’t you remember what happened?
Phil. You broke a glass.