Mrs. Insoley.
[With a chuckle at the opportunity Grace has given her.] As you are my hostess, it would be insolent of me to contradict you, my dear Grace.
[Delighted with her repartee, she gets up and walks out of the room. Grace goes up to the looking-glass over the chimney-piece and rubs her cheeks with a handkerchief.
Archibald.
I wonder if you’d be very angry if I said something to you?
Grace.
[Icily.] Do you object to the way I do my hair, or is it the cut of my skirt that doesn’t quite meet with your approval?
Archibald.
I was going to say something to you about Claude.
[Grace gives a slight, an almost imperceptible start, but does not answer or look round.