Fanny, after following a few steps, stops and thinks. Ernest has
entered with the wood. He is piling it in the basket by the fire.
His entrance decides her. She glances through the open door of the
dressing-room, then flies across to the desk, seats herself, and
begins feverishly to write a telegram.

FANNY. Ernie! [He comes across to her.] Have you still got your
bicycle?

ERNEST. Yes.

FANNY. Could you get this telegram off for me before eight o'clock?
I don't want it sent from the village; I want you to take it
YOURSELF--into the town. There's a sovereign for you if you do it
all right.

ERNEST. I'll do it. Can only get into a row.

FANNY. Pretty used to them, ain't you? [She has risen. She gives
him the telegram. She has stamped it.] Can you read it?

ERNEST. "George P. Newte."

FANNY. Hush!

They both glance at the open door.

ERNEST [he continues in a lower voice]. "72A, Waterloo Bridge Road,
London. Must see you at once. Am at the new shop." [He looks up.]