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 slightest_) The minute I saw you just now, I said to myself, now there's a lady that's got a lot to contend with. MRS. BRAMSON: Oh ... Well, I have. Nobody knows it better than me. DAN: No, I'm sure ... Oh, it must be terrible to watch everybody else striding up and down enjoying everything, and to see everybody tasting the fruit-- _As she looks at him, appreciation of what he is saying grows visibly in her face_. I'm sorry ... (_Diffidently_) I didn't ha' ought to say that. MRS. BRAMSON: But it's true! As true as you are my witness, and nobody else--(_Pulling herself together_) Now look here, about that girl-- DAN: Excuse me a minute.... (_Examining her throat, like a doctor_) Would you mind sayin' something? MRS. BRAMSON (_taken aback_): What d'you want me to say? DAN: Yes ... MRS. BRAMSON: Yes. What? DAN: There's a funny twitching in your neck when you talk--very slight, of course--nerves, I expect--But I hope your doctor knows all about it ... D'you mind if I ask what your ailments are? MRS. BRAMSON: ... Hadn't you better sit down? DAN (_sitting_): Thank you. MRS. BRAMSON: Well, I have the most terrible palpitations. I-- DAN: Palpitations! (_Whistling_.) But the way you get about! MRS. BRAMSON: Oh? DAN: It's a pretty bad thing to have, you know. D'you know that nine women out of ten in your position'd be just sittin' down givin' way? MRS. BRAMSON: Would they? DAN: Yes, they would! I do know, as a matter of fact. I've known people with palpitations. Somebody very close to me ... (_After a pause, soberly_) They're dead now ... MRS. BRAMSON (_startled_): Oh! DAN: My mother, as a matter of fact ... _With finely controlled emotion, practically indistinguishable from the real thing_.