Alma. Don’t make too sure of that. (crosses R.)
Ned. You don’t consider my feelings in the least. Do you suppose it’s all the same to me who speaks my lines?
Alma. You’ll get them better spoken, I daresay.
Ned. Very well—someone else shall speak them. (crosses to C.)
Alma. No, they shan’t.
Ned. You’ll play the part, after all! (puts hat and stick down on chair, L. of table)
Alma. I meant to play it all the time, you goose! I’ve no idea of leaving Dick. I only want five pounds a week more salary.
Ned. That’s a weight off my mind. (crosses to sofa; sits) You can’t believe how sensitive I am about this play. It is the only link between me and my wife. I sometimes think that if she saw it it might bring her back to me. That is the reason I’m so anxious about it.
Alma. Of course, she’d recognise the letter.
Ned. What can have become of her?