PURDIE. Perhaps they have only gone to bed. Ought we to knock them
up?

MABEL (after considering what her mother would have done). I think
not, dear. I suppose we have run away, Jack--meaning to?

PURDIE (with the sturdiness that weaker vessels adore). Irrevocably.
Mabel, if the dog-like devotion of a lifetime . . . (He becomes
conscious that something has happened to LOB'S leer. It has not left
his face but it has shifted.) He is not shamming, do you think?

MABEL. Shake him again.

PURDIE (after shaking him). It's all right. Mabel, if the dog-like
devotion of a lifetime . . .

MABEL. Poor little Joanna! Still, if a woman insists on being a
pendulum round a man's neck . . .

PURDIE. Do give me a chance, Mabel. If the dog-like devotion of a
lifetime . . .

(JOANNA comes through the curtains so inopportunely that for the
moment he is almost pettish.)

May I say, this is just a little too much, Joanna!

JOANNA (unconscious as they of her return to her dinner gown). So,
sweet husband, your soul is still walking alone, is it?