WINSOR. Well, he can't exist on backing losers.
LADY A. Isn't it just like him to get married now? He really is the
most reckless person.
WINSOR. Yes. He's a queer chap. I've always liked him, but I've never
quite made him out. What do you think of his wife?
LADY A. Nice child; awfully gone on him.
WINSOR. Is he?
LADY A. Quite indecently--both of them. [Nodding towards the wall,
Left] They're next door.
WINSOR. Who's beyond them?
LADY A. De Levis; and Margaret Orme at the end. Charlie, do you realise
that the bathroom out there has to wash those four?
WINSOR. I know.
LADY A. Your grandfather was crazy when he built this wing; six rooms in
a row with balconies like an hotel, and only one bath--if we hadn't put
ours in.
WINSOR. [Looking at his watch] Half-past eleven. [Yawns] Newmarket
always makes me sleepy. You're keeping Morison up.
LADY ADELA goes to the door, blowing a kiss. CHARLES goes up to his
dressing-table and begins to brush his hair, sprinkling on essence.
There is a knock on the corridor door.
Come in.
DE LEVIS enters, clad in pyjamas and flowered dressing-gown. He is
a dark, good-looking, rather Eastern young man.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116