Alma. Get rid of these people. (Ned crosses to Doctor, L.)
Mrs. D. Sir Humphrey, this explains something that’s puzzled me for years.
Sir H. What’s that, Mrs. Dozey?
Mrs. D. Why Dionysius always brings a black tie with him when he comes to London. (Sir Humphrey rises, goes up R.C. with Mrs. Dozey.)
Dr. (to Ned) Sherry and bitters? Excellent idea.
Ned. Come with me, doctor. Father, take Mrs. Dozey.
Dr. Bitters impart a zest to appetite and give a tone to the digestive organs.
Exeunt Sir Humphrey, Mrs. Dozey, Dr. Dozey, and Ned, R. Check lights and limes.
Alma. What does this mean? (picks up the ring) Her wedding ring. It isn’t as bright as when I saw it first; but what of that? Six months of marriage take the shine out of a good many wedding-rings. What was it doing there? It couldn’t have dropped off by accident. No—it’s too small for that—it must have been tight. Perhaps it was too tight. That’s it! (crosses to R.C.) That’s it, you may depend. Now, let me think. Under what circumstances does a woman take to throwing rings about? In Sparkle’s comedies they do it in a temper. Clever man—but human nature’s scarcely Sparkle’s forte. Stop! I once threw away my wedding-ring. What for? If I could think—I know! I know! It was the only time in my life I was jealous of Tom! That’s what’s the matter! (crosses to C.) Mrs. Chetwynd’s jealous. Now what has Ned been doing? Whom’s she jealous of? I must find out. She had it on just now—when Ned went out with me. She must have found out something since. Now, what did I do when my husband was out? I looked in all his pockets and I rummaged through all his papers. (looks round) There are no pockets here, but there are any number of papers. (goes to desk) Let me have a look. I’ll find it in three tries. (pouncing on the letter, sits) “My own dearest Alma.” Found at one! The letter in the play! of course! of course! it’s me she’s jealous of! It must be me. (rises, takes letter and reads) “At last I have a moment to myself, to scribble a hasty answer to your note.” (reads on with her back turned to door, L. Re-enter Lucy, L., in out-door costume, very cautiously creeps in, sees Alma, and starts violently, then stands motionless. The stage has by this time grown rather dim, as if it were getting dusk. Check lights, check to half down. Lights gradually fade away and go out) “Why have I a wife? She is a mere child for whom I had a passing fancy.”
Lucy. (under her breath) She’s reading the letter!