HUBERT (_deep in his paper_): There's a man here in Weston-super-
Mare who stood on his head for twenty minutes for a bet, and he hasn't
come to yet.
MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): I thought this morning I'd never be able
to face the day.
HUBERT: But last night when you opened the port----
MRS. BRAMSON: I've had a relapse since then. My heart's going like
anything. Give me a chocolate.
OLIVIA _rises and fetches her a chocolate from a large box on the
table._
NURSE: How does it feel?
MRS. BRAMSON: Nasty. (_Munching her chocolate._) I _know_
it's neuritis.
NURSE: You know, Mrs. Bramson, what you want isn't massage at all, only
exercise. Your body----
MRS. BRAMSON: Don't you dictate to me about my body. Nobody here
understands my body or anything else about me. As for sympathy, I've
forgotten the meaning of the word. (_To_ OLIVIA) What's the matter
with your face?
OLIVIA (_startled_): I--I really don't know.
MRS. BRAMSON: It's as long as my arm.
OLIVIA (_drily_): I'm afraid it's made like that.
_She crosses the room, and comes back again.
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