DORA: Yes.... (_Going, and turning at the kitchen door--in impulsive
relief_) Oh, ma'am--
MRS. BRAMSON: And I'll stop the Crown Derby out of your wages.
DORA (_crestfallen_): Oh!
MRS. BRAMSON: What were you going to say?
DORA: Well, ma'am, I _was_ going to say I don't know how to thank
you for your generosity....
_She goes into the kitchen. The clock chimes_.
MRS. BRAMSON: Olivia!
OLIVIA: Yes, auntie?
MRS. BRAMSON: You've forgotten again. Medicine's overdue. Most
important.
OLIVIA _crosses to the medicine cupboard and fetches the
medicine._ MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen with a vase of
flowers and barges between the sofa and the wheelchair_.
MRS. TERENCE (_muttering_): All this furniture ...
MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): Did _you_ know she's having a baby?
MRS. TERENCE (_coldly_): She did mention it in conversation.
MRS. BRAMSON: Playing with fire, that's the game nowadays.
MRS. TERENCE (_arranging flowers as_ OLIVIA _ gives_ MRS.
BRAMSON _her medicine_): Playing with fiddlesticks. We're only
young once; that 'ot summer too.
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