TWISDEN. My dear Mrs Dancy, there's no need at all for you to come down
to-morrow; take a rest and nurse your head.
MABEL. Really and truly?
TWISDEN. Yes; it's the very best thing you can do.
GRAVITER turns his head, and looks at them unobserved.
MABEL. How do you think it's going?
TWISDEN. It went very well to-day; very well indeed.
MABEL. You must be awfully fed up with us.
TWISDEN. My dear young lady, that's our business. [He takes her hand].
MABEL's face suddenly quivers. She draws her hand away, and covers
her lips with it.
There, there! You want a day off badly.
MABEL. I'm so tired of--! Thank you so much for all you're doing.
Good night! Good night, Mr Graviter!
GRAVITER. Good night, Mrs Dancy.
MABEL goes.
GRAVITER. D'you know, I believe she knows.
TWISDEN. No, no! She believes in him implicitly. A staunch little
woman. Poor thing!
GRAVITER. Hasn't that shaken you, sir? It has me.
TWISDEN. No, no! I--I can't go on with the case. It's breaking faith.
Get Sir Frederic's chambers.
GRAVITER. [Telephoning, and getting a reply, looks round at TWISDEN]
Yes?
TWISDEN. Ask if I can come round and see him.
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