(CHALMERS shows in MAMIE SCOTT. She is a girl about 27, petite but pretty, dressed with many furbelows and other fluffy things. She looks around, as she enters, with a swagger air, sees CHALMERS smiling, freezes her with a look. CHALMERS straightens herself and goes off door L. with nose in air. MAMIE looks round room humming or singing a tune, places parasol on settee at back, and comes down C. Enter JOHN, undoing collar and tie.)
MAMIE. Hullo, Jack!
JOHN. Hullo, you dear little thing! (In a playful temper.) But you mustn’t come here—really.
MAMIE. Why not? I thought you said the cat was away at Folkestone?
JOHN. And please don’t call my wife a cat.
(Exit JOHN into room R.)
MAMIE (with an elaborate curtsy). Oh, I beg the cat’s pardon. (Sweeping round room she sees photograph on table L.C.). Say Jack, whose picture’s this?
JOHN (spoken off). Which one?
MAMIE. This one, here, by the telephone!
JOHN (spoken off). Oh, that is my wife.