Come along with the shawl, dear. I'm freezing....

DAN (_with a laugh, putting the shawl round her_): Don't know
what's up with me--

_He goes to the table and looks at a newspaper._ MRS. TERENCE
_comes in from the kitchen, her coat on._

MRS. TERENCE: Well, I must go on me way rejoicin'.

MRS. BRAMSON: Everybody seems to be going. What is all this?

MRS. TERENCE: What d'you want for lunch tomorrow?

MRS. BRAMSON: Lunch to-morrow?... Let me see....

DAN: Lunch? To-morrow?... (_After a pause_) What about a nice
little steak?

MRS. BRAMSON: A steak, let me see.... Yes, with baked potatoes--

DAN: And a nice roly-poly puddin', the kind you like?

MRS. BRAMSON: I think so.

MRS. TERENCE: Something light. O.K. Good night.

_She goes back into the kitchen._ DAN _scans the newspaper
casually._