She
is as neat as if she were one of the army of typists [who are quite
the nicest kind of women], and carries a little bag. She comes in
through the window, and puts her hands over the COMTESSE's eyes.]
COMTESSE. They are a strong pair of hands, at any rate.
MAGGIE. And not very white, and biggish for my size. Now guess.
[The COMTESSE guesses, and takes both the hands in hers as if she
valued them. She pulls off MAGGIE's hat as if to prevent her flying
away.]
COMTESSE. Dear abominable one, not to let me know you were coming.
MAGGIE. It is just a surprise visit, Comtesse. I walked up from the
station. [For a moment MAGGIE seems to have borrowed SYBIL'S
impediment.] How is--everybody?
COMTESSE. He is quite well. But, my child, he seems to me to be a
most unhappy man.
[This sad news does not seem to make a most unhappy woman of the
child. The COMTESSE is puzzled, as she knows nothing of the situation
save what she has discovered for herself.]
Why should that please you, O heartless one?
MAGGIE. I won't tell you.
COMTESSE. I could take you and shake you, Maggie. Here have I put my
house at your disposal for so many days for some sly Scotch purpose,
and you will not tell me what it is.
MAGGIE. No.
COMTESSE. Very well, then, but I have what you call a nasty one for
you. [The COMTESSE lures MR. VENABLES into the room by holding up
what might be a foaming glass of lemon squash.
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