DORA: Oh, 'ere's a pocket-book. With a letter.

(_She gives the letter to_ MRS. TERENCE _and the pocket-book
to_ OLIVIA.)

HUBERT: Look here, this is going a bit too far--you can't do this to a
chap--

MRS. TERENCE (_taking the letter from the envelope_): Don't be
silly, dear, your wife'll do it to you 'undreds of times....
(_Sniffing the note-paper_) Pooh.... (_Reading, as they crane
over her shoulder_) "Dear Baby-Face my own ..." Signed Lil....

OLIVIA: What awful writing....

MRS. TERENCE (_reading, heavily_): "... Next time you strike
Newcastle, O.K. by me, baby...." Ooh!

HUBERT: Just another servant-girl.... Sorry, Dora....

DORA (_lugubriously_): O.K.

OLIVIA (_rummaging in the pocket-book_): Bus ticket to Thorburton,
some snaps ...

MRS. TERENCE: Look at 'er _bust_!

OLIVIA: Here's a group.... Look, Hubert....

HUBERT _joins her in front of the table._