MABEL DANCY is
sitting alone on the sofa with a newspaper on her lap; she is only
just up, and has a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. Two or
three other newspapers are dumped on the arm of the sofa. She
topples the one off her lap and takes up another as if she couldn't
keep away from them; drops it in turn, and sits staring before her,
sniffing at the salts. The door, Right, is opened and DANCY comes
in.
MABEL. [Utterly surprised] Ronny! Do they want me in Court?
DANCY. No.
MABEL. What is it, then? Why are you back?
DANCY. Spun.
MABEL. [Blank] Spun? What do you mean? What's spun?
DANCY. The case. They've found out through those notes.
MABEL. Oh! [Staring at his face] Who?
DANCY. Me!
MABEL. [After a moment of horrified stillness] Don't, Ronny! Oh! No!
Don't! [She buries her face in the pillows of the sofa].
DANCY stands looking down at her.
DANCY. Pity you wouldn't come to Africa three months ago.
MABEL. Why didn't you tell me then? I would have gone.
DANCY. You wanted this case. Well, it's fallen down.
MABEL. Oh! Why didn't I face it? But I couldn't--I had to believe.
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