TERENCE: Chalfont? Oh, yes! Dyed platinum blonde--widow of a
colonel, so she says, livin' alone, so she says, always wearin' them
faldalaldy openwork stockings. Fond of a drop too. That's 'er.
HUBERT: Why, d'you know her?
MRS. TERENCE: Never set eyes on 'er. But you know how people talk.
Partial to that there, too, I'm told.
MRS. BRAMSON: What's that there?
MRS. TERENCE: Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
BELSIZE (_quickly_): Well, anyway ... Mrs. Chalfont left the
Tallboys last Friday afternoon, without a hat, went for a walk through
the woods in this direction, and has never been seen since.
_He makes his effect_.
MRS. BRAMSON: I expect she was so drunk she fell flat and never came
to.
BELSIZE: We've had the woods pretty well thrashed. (_To OLIVIA_)
Those would be the men you saw. Now she was ... HUBERT (_taking the
floor_): She may have had a brain-storm, you know, and taken a train
somewhere. That's not uncommon, you know, among people of her sort.
(_Airing knowledge_) And if what we gather from our friend here's
true--and she's both a dipsomaniac _and_ a nymphomaniac--
MRS.
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