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Four Short Plays by John Galsworthy
page 55 of 75 (73%)

[In a terrible voice] Mr Foreson.

FORESON. Sir?

VANE. Look--at--that--shade!

[FORESON mutters, walks up to it and turns it round so that the
light shines on HERBERT'S legs.]

On his face, on his face!

[FORESON turns the light accordingly.]

FORESON. Is that what you want, Mr Vane?

VANE. Yes. Now, mark that!

FORESON. [Up into wings Right] Electrics!

ELECTRICS. Hallo!

FORESON. Mark that!

VANE. My God!

[The blue suddenly becomes amber.]

[The blue returns. All is steady. HERBERT is seen diverting
himself with an imaginary cigar.]
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