home.'

COSMO, the polite, 'Right O.'

GINEVRA. 'But you haven't got your boots on.'

COSMO. 'I won't be a minute.' He pauses at the door. 'I say I believe
you're trying to get rid of me. Look here, I won't budge till you tell
me what mother is speaking about to father.'

AMY. 'It is about the drawing-room curtains.'

COSMO. 'Good lord!' As soon as he has gone they rush at each other;
they don't embrace; they stop when their noses are an inch apart, and
then talk. This is the stage way for lovers. It is difficult to
accomplish without rubbing noses, but they have both been practising.

GINEVRA. 'Quick, Amy, did you get the letters?'

AMY. 'There are no letters.'

Ginevra is so taken aback that her nose bobs. Otherwise the two are
absolutely motionless. She cleverly recovers herself.

GINEVRA. 'No letters; how unlike life. You are quite sure?'

AMY. 'I have my mother's word for it.'

GINEVRA. 'Is that enough?'