Mrs. Wharton.
It doesn’t matter, my dear. How dreadfully white you look.
John.
I went for a walk this morning. I’ve had nothing to eat. I’m rather tired.
Mrs. Wharton.
My dear, you frighten me, your face is all drawn and pinched.
John.
Oh, mother, don’t worry about me. I shall be all right after breakfast. After all, it’s quite enough to have one invalid on your hands.
[Mrs. Wharton looks at him in surprise. Sylvia gives a nervous start, but immediately controls herself.
Sylvia.