MRS GILBEY. I never give more than one and tuppence. But I suppose youre extravagant by nature. My sister Martha was just like that. Pay anything she was asked. DORA. Whats tuppence to you, Mrs Bobby, after all? MRS GILBEY. [correcting her] Mrs Gilbey. DORA. Of course, Mrs Gilbey. I am silly. MRS GILBEY. Bobby must have looked funny in your hat. Why did you change hats with him? DORA. I dont know. One does, you know. MRS GILBEY. I never did. The things people do! I cant understand them. Bobby never told me he was keeping company with you. His own mother! DORA. [overcome] Excuse me: I cant help smiling. _Juggins enters._ JUGGINS. Mr Gilbey has gone to Wormwood Scrubbs, madam. MRS GILBEY. Have you ever been in a police court, Juggins? JUGGINS. Yes, madam. MRS GILBEY [rather shocked] I hope you had not been exceeding, Juggins. JUGGINS. Yes, madam, I had. I exceeded the legal limit. MRS GILBEY. Oh, that! Why do they give a woman a fortnight for wearing a man's hat, and a man a month for wearing hers? JUGGINS. I didnt know that they did, madam. MRS GILBEY. It doesnt seem justice, does it, Juggins? JUGGINS. No, madam. MRS GILBEY [to Dora, rising] Well, good-bye. [Shaking her hand] So pleased to have made your acquaintance. DORA. [standing up] Dont mention it. I'm sure it's most kind of you to receive me at all. MRS GILBEY. I must go off now and order lunch. [She trots to the door]. What was it you called the concertina? DORA. A squiffer, dear. MRS GILBEY. [thoughtfully] A squiffer, of course. How funny! [She goes out]. DORA. [exploding into ecstasies of mirth] Oh my! isnt she an old love? How do you keep your face straight? JUGGINS. It is what I am paid for. DORA. [confidentially] Listen here, dear boy. Your name isnt Juggins. Nobody's name is Juggins. JUGGINS. My orders are, Miss Delaney, that you are not to be here when Mr Gilbey returns from Wormwood Scrubbs. DORA. That means telling me to mind my own business, doesnt it? Well, I'm off. Tootle Loo, Charlie Darling. [She kisses her hand to him and goes]. ACT II _On the afternoon of the same day, Mrs Knox is writing notes in her drawing-room, at a writing-table which stands against the wall. Anyone placed so as to see Mrs Knox's left profile, will have the door on the right and the window an the left, both further away than Mrs Knox, whose back is presented to an obsolete upright piano at the opposite side of the room. The sofa is near the piano. There is a small table in the middle of the room, with some gilt-edged books and albums on it, and chairs near it._