MRS. FARRANT. Poor thing!

AMY O'CONNELL. The moon's good for it.

LUCY DAVENPORT. Shall you come, Aunt Julia?

MRS. FARRANT. [_In flat protest._] No, I will not sit up while you play
billiards.

MRS. O'CONNELL _goes out through the one window, stands for a moment,
wistfully romantic, gazing at_ KENT _are standing at the other,
looking across the lawn._

FARRANT. Horsham still arguing with Maconochie. They're got to Botany now.

WALTER KENT. Demonstrating something with a ... what's that thing?

WALTER _goes out._

FARRANT. [_With a throw of his head towards the distant_ HORSHAM.] He was so
bored with our politics ... having to give his opinion too. We could just
hear your piano.

_And he follows_ WALTER.

MRS. FARRANT. Take Amy O'Connell that lace thing, will you, Lucy?

LUCY DAVENPORT. [_Her tone expressing quite wonderfully her sentiments
towards the owner._] Don't you think she'd sooner catch cold?