Roberts, dropping nervously into the nearest chair: “I hope she isn’t behind time.”
Mrs. Roberts, drifting upon the sofa, and disposing her train effectively on the carpet around her: “She’s before time. The dinner is in the last moment of ripe perfection now, when we must still give people fifteen minutes’ grace.” She studies the convolutions of her train absent-mindedly.
Roberts, joining in its perusal: “Is that the way you’ve arranged to be sitting when people come in?”
Mrs. Roberts: “Of course not. I shall get up to receive them.”
Roberts: “That’s rather a pity. To destroy such a lovely pose.”
Mrs. Roberts: “Do you like it?”
Roberts: “It’s divine.”
Mrs. Roberts: “You might throw me a kiss.”
Roberts: “No; if it happened to strike on that train anywhere, it might spoil one of the folds. I can’t risk it.” A ring is heard at the apartment door. They spring to their feet simultaneously.
Mrs. Roberts: “There’s Aunt Mary now!” She calls into the vestibule, “Aunt Mary!”