JOHN. One can't go there every day. I see nothing to laugh at.

COMTESSE. Did I laugh? I must have been translating the situation
into French.

[Perhaps the music of the lawn-mower is not to JOHN's mood, for he
betakes himself to another room. MR. VENABLES pauses in his labours
to greet a lady who has appeared on the lawn, and who is MAGGIE. She
is as neat as if she were one of the army of typists [who are quite
the nicest kind of women], and carries a little bag. She comes in
through the window, and puts her hands over the COMTESSE's eyes.]

COMTESSE. They are a strong pair of hands, at any rate.

MAGGIE. And not very white, and biggish for my size. Now guess.

[The COMTESSE guesses, and takes both the hands in hers as if she
valued them. She pulls off MAGGIE's hat as if to prevent her flying
away.]

COMTESSE. Dear abominable one, not to let me know you were coming.

MAGGIE. It is just a surprise visit, Comtesse. I walked up from the
station. [For a moment MAGGIE seems to have borrowed SYBIL'S
impediment.] How is--everybody?

COMTESSE. He is quite well. But, my child, he seems to me to be a
most unhappy man.

[This sad news does not seem to make a most unhappy woman of the