Ivory [almost breaking down. Sinks into chair left of table]. Oh! My daughter—how can I tell you—how can I—I am ruined—ruined!
[Sud rises, and beats time in rhythm like a conductor to their "Ohs."]
Miss Ivory [a little up and left of table]. You—ruined—Oh!—
Ivory. Oh!
Miss Ivory. Oh!
Sud [turning to Wouldby and whispering audibly]. When you are hard up for conversation use Oh's—
[Sits quickly.]
Ivory. We have lived beyond our means—Oh!—my child—I have only brought you misery—
Miss Ivory [goes to father, stands back of his chair and caresses him]. Poor father—don't take it that way—I love you—we must live differently—anything you say—
Wouldby [to Sud]. How sweet and sacrificial!