... Sorry, Dora....
DORA (_lugubriously_): O.K.
OLIVIA (_rummaging in the pocket-book_): Bus ticket to Thorburton,
some snaps ...
MRS. TERENCE: Look at 'er _bust_!
OLIVIA: Here's a group.... Look, Hubert....
HUBERT _joins her in front of the table._
HUBERT: This wench is rather fetching.
MRS. TERENCE (_crowding between them_): Look at _'er_!... The
impudence, 'er being taken in a bathing-suit!...
DORA: He's not in this one, is 'e?
HUBERT (_impressed_): Oh, I say ... there _she_ is!
MRS. TERENCE and DORA: who?
HUBERT: The missing female! In front of the tall man.... You remember
the photograph of her in the _Mirror_?
DORA: It's awful to think she may be dead. Awful....
MRS. TERENCE: Looks ever so sexy, doesn't she?
DORA: 'Ere's one of a little boy--
OLIVIA: How extraordinary....
HUBERT: What?
OLIVIA: It's himself.
DORA: The little Eton collar.... Oh, dear ... ever so sweet, isn't it?
MRS. TERENCE: Now that's what I call a real innocent face....
HUBERT (_going to the centre of the room_): Well, that's that.
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