_Do_
things! Get a move on! Show 'em what you're made of! Get a move on!...
Fainting, indeed.... Proper girl's trick, I'm ashamed of myself....
(_Looking round, quietly_) The light's going.... The daytime's as
if it's never been; it's dead.... (_Seeing the others stare, with a
laugh_) Daft, isn't it?
DORA _brings in an oil lamp from the kitchen; she is wearing her
outdoor clothes. She crosses to the table, strikes a match with her
back to the audience and lights the lamp, then the wall lamp. The
twilight is dispelled._
NURSE (_shutting her bag, rising_): You'll be all right; a bit
light-headed after the fall, I expect. (_Going to the hall_) Well,
got an abscess the other side of Turneyfield, _and_ a slow
puncture. So long, lovey.
DAN (_sitting up_): So long!
NURSE: Be good, all!
_She bustles out of the front door. A pause._ DAN _sits looking
before him, drumming his fingers on the sofa._
DORA (_closing the right window-curtains_): What's the matter with
him?
MRS. TERENCE: Conked out.
DORA: Conked out? Oh, dear.... D'you think 'e see'd something? I'll
tell you what it is!
MRS.
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