I wish we could do something for her.
Mrs. Wharton.
[Explaining to John.] She was telegraphed for last week to go to Ned at Boulogne. He died on Tuesday.
John.
[With astonishment.] Ned! But he was only a kid.
Mrs. Wharton.
Oh, he’d grown up since you were home. He was nearly nineteen.
Mrs. Poole.
Both her sons are gone now. She’s quite alone.
Mrs. Wharton.