JOHN. Yes, I’m very ill, you know—I was in a ’bus accident the other day, and—er—things have been getting worse.
MAMIE. Poor old Jack! I am sorry. (Pulling his face to her with hand under his chin.) But you don’t look ill.
JOHN (turning face again to front). No, I’m one of those who bear up to the last! Now, listen, when this man calls I want you to pretend that I’m bad. Of course I am bad, but while he’s here I am sure to be a little worse. Mrs. Ayers—that is me—has been speaking to him on the ’phone and naturally when he comes he’ll expect to see me—that is—Mrs. Ayers—I—I see, you don’t understand.
MAMIE (very sympathetically). Jack, dear, you haven’t injured your head, have you?
JOHN. No, it’s quite all right. Nothing to do, but—er—don’t say you’re my wife. Just pat me on the head now and then and moan “Poor John”—you understand? . . .
MAMIE. Yes, I understand. “Poor John.” But say, this is spoof, you’re not really ill, Jack, are you?
JOHN. Of course not—oh, yes, I am—but don’t worry, I’m going to get better. Just “poor John!” Lay it on thick!
MAMIE. I see—“Poor John.” (Crosses up to mantelpiece, removes hat and tidies her hair at glass.)
(TULLY enters hurriedly, sees MAMIE, makes a bolt for door L. JOHN catches him by coat and pulls him back.)
TULLY. It’s all right, John—(as he enters).