YOUNG LADY.

Not too red--nicely flushed.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.

[_Examining his nails critically as he rises._] I say though, that's a
vast improvement!

MISS CLARIDGE.

Getting more shapely, aren't they?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.

Thanks awfully.

[_He pays_ MISS LIMBIRD, _stands talking to her for a while, and
ultimately strolls away through the opening in the partition. After
putting her table in order_, MISS CLARIDGE _goes out the same way,
carrying her bowl of water and towel._

MISS MOON.

[_To the young lady._] Have you had your hand read yet, madam, by any of
these palmists?

YOUNG LADY.