TERENCE: She wants to kiss you good morning, what d'you think....
_She collects the table-cloth, fetches a vase from the mantelpiece,
and goes into the kitchen._ DORA _enters gingerly from the
bedroom, carrying a cup and saucer on a tray._
DORA: Did you want me, mum?
MRS. BRAMSON: Crown Derby to you, my girl.
DORA (_uncertain_): Beg pardon, mum?
MRS. BRAMSON: I suppose you think that china came from Marks and
Spencer?
DORA: Oh.... (_Snivelling_) Oh ... oh ...
OLIVIA (_coming between_ DORA _and_ MRS. BRAMSON): Come
along, Dora, it's not as bad as all that.
DORA: Oh, yes, it is.... Oh....
MRS. BRAMSON: You can leave, that's all. You can leave.
_Appalled,_ DORA _drops the tray and breaks the saucer._
That settles it. Now you'll _have_ to leave.
DORA (_with a cry_): Oh, please I ... (_Kneeling, and collecting
broken china_) Oh, ma'am--I'm not meself, you see.... (_Snivelling_)
I'm in a terrible trouble....
MRS. BRAMSON: Have you been stealing?
DORA (_shocked_): Oh, no!
OLIVIA (_after a pause_): Are you going to have a baby?
_After a pause, DORA nods.
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