Dr. An Australian widow. (gets R.)
Mrs. D. It’s a long way off.
Sir H. Don’t you like widows, doctor?
Dr. Far be it from me, whose tenement is glass, to cut a stone; but of all types of widow, the most perilous is the Colonial.
Mrs. D. However, it’s our duty to be charitable.
Dr. Until we know the worst we will think the best.
Sir H. Wait till you’ve met Mrs. Blake; you’ll be charmed with her. (meanwhile Tom has re-entered through window and down R. of easel) You mustn’t go till you have seen her, Mr. Potter. (turns)
Tom. Till I’ve seen whom?
Mrs. D. A widow. (moves towards door, L.)