Maud. They are lovely, though; aren't they?
Ethel. Yes, if (Newcome revives a little) I thought she would really be satisfied.
[He essays once again to hold up the browns.
Maud. But, dear, they never are.
[His arms again droop.
Ethel. No, never. No matter how much trouble you take, or what pains you are (he sighs feebly) at (he totters), they are so ungrateful.
Maud. Yes, always.
Ethel. Well, I believe we can't venture to decide this morning (he staggers) about the shade. We will very likely return to-morrow.
[He raises a weakly deprecating hand.
Maud (aside, as the two ladies are going). Well, we got off quite nicely.