MILLER, dropping on his knees, and fanning Mrs. Curwen: "There!
there! Wake up, Mrs. Curwen. I didn't mean to scold you for joking.
I didn't, indeed. I--I--I don't know what the deuce I'm up to." He
gathers Mrs. Curwen's inanimate form in his arms, and fans her face
where it lies on his shoulder. "I don't know what my wife would say
if" -

MRS. CRASHAW: "She would say that you were doing your duty."

MILLER, a little consoled: "Oh, do you think so? Well, perhaps."

YOUNG MR. BEMIS: "Do you feel faint at all, Miss Lawton?"

MISS LAWTON: "No, I think not. No, not if you say it's safe."

YOUNG MR. BEMIS: "Oh, I'm sure it is!"

MISS LAWTON, renewing her hold upon his hand: "Well, then! Perhaps
I hurt you?"

YOUNG MR. BEMIS: "No, no! You couldn't!'

MISS LAWTON: "How kind you are!"

MRS. CURWEN, opening her eyes: "Where" -

MILLER, rapidly transferring her to Mrs. Crashaw: "Still in the
elevator, Mrs. Curwen." Rising to his feet: "Something must be
done. Perhaps we HAD better unite in a cry. It's ridiculous, of
course. But it's the only thing we can do. Now, then! Hello!"