mind what Olivia said about the man being somewhere who's done it.

MRS. TERENCE (_coming into the room_): Why, Mr. Laurie, it might
be you! After all, there's nothing in your face that _proves_ it
isn't!

HUBERT: Oh, come, come! You're being a bit hard on the old countenance,
aren't you?

MRS. TERENCE: Well, 'e's not going to walk about with bloodshot eyes
and a snarl all over his face, is he?

_She goes into the kitchen._

HUBERT: That's true enough.

MRS. BRAMSON: Missing woman indeed! She's more likely than not at this
very moment sitting in some saloon bar. Or the films, I shouldn't
wonder. (_To_ OLIVIA) pass me my wool, will you....

OLIVIA _crosses to the desk. A knock at the kitchen door_: DORA
_appears, cautiously._

DORA: _Was_ it about me?

OLIVIA: Of course it wasn't.

DORA (_relieved_): Oh.... Please, mum, 'e's 'ere.

MRS. BRAMSON: Who?