MRS. BRAMSON _careers in from the kitchen in her chair_.

MRS. BRAMSON: They say they've got permits to look for that silly
woman--who are _they_, I'd like to know? If there's anything I
hate, it's these men who think they've got authority.

OLIVIA: I don't think they're quite as bad as men who think they've got
charm.

_She goes back into the sun-room_. DAN _whistles_.

MRS. BRAMSON: What did she mean by that?

DAN: Well, it's no good her thinkin' _she's_ got any, is it?

MRS. BRAMSON (_sternly_). Now, young man, what about Dora? I--

DAN: Wait a minute ... (_Putting his hat on the table and going to
her_) Are you sure you're comfortable like that? Don't you think,
Mrs. Bramson, you ought to be facin' ... a wee bit more this side,
towards the sun more, eh? (_He moves her chair round till she is in
the centre of the room, facing the sun-room_) You're looking pale,
you know. (_As she stares at him, putting the stub in an ashtray on
the table_) I am sorry. Excuse rudeness ... Another thing, Mrs.
Bramson--you don't mind me sayin' it, do you?--but you ought to have a
rug, you know. This October weather's very treacherous.

MRS. BRAMSON (_blinking_): Pale? Did you say pale?

DAN: Washed out. (_His wiles fully turned on, but not overdone in the