BRAMSON: My niece. Gone for the night, if you please.
DAN: Gone ... for the night? (_He stares before him._)
MRS. BRAMSON: Would you believe it? Says she's frightened....
_A pause._
Come along with the shawl, dear. I'm freezing....
DAN (_with a laugh, putting the shawl round her_): Don't know
what's up with me--
_He goes to the table and looks at a newspaper._ MRS. TERENCE
_comes in from the kitchen, her coat on._
MRS. TERENCE: Well, I must go on me way rejoicin'.
MRS. BRAMSON: Everybody seems to be going. What is all this?
MRS. TERENCE: What d'you want for lunch tomorrow?
MRS. BRAMSON: Lunch to-morrow?... Let me see....
DAN: Lunch? To-morrow?... (_After a pause_) What about a nice
little steak?
MRS. BRAMSON: A steak, let me see.... Yes, with baked potatoes--
DAN: And a nice roly-poly puddin', the kind you like?
MRS. BRAMSON: I think so.
MRS. TERENCE: Something light. O.K. Good night.
_She goes back into the kitchen._ DAN _scans the newspaper
casually._
MRS. BRAMSON (_inquisitive_): What are you reading, dear?
DAN (_breezily_): Only the murder again.
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