MAGGIE. David--have they--is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There's no news
yet, no news. It's terrible.

[The teetotum revolves more quickly.]

ALICK. For God's sake, Maggie, sit down.

MAGGIE. I can't, I can't.

DAVID. Hold her down.

[They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His
necktie has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in
that hat.]

JAMES [wildly]. John Shand's the man for you. John Shand's the man
for you. John Shand's the man for you.

DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything?

JAMES. Not a word.

ALICK. Look at her.

DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him
in affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare.

MAGGIE. It was grand of him.