MRS. BRAMSON: I'm very annoyed with you. How are you going to get there? OLIVIA: Walking. MRS. BRAMSON: Through the forest? Not too frightened for that, I see. OLIVIA: I'd rather spend to-night in the forest than in this house. MRS. BRAMSON: That sounds convincing, I must say. Well, you can go, but when you come back, I'm not so sure I shall answer the door. Think that over in the morning. OLIVIA: The morning?... DAN'S VOICE (_in the bedroom, singing_): "... their home addresses ... and their caresses ... linger in my memory of those beautiful dames ..." OLIVIA _listens, holding her breath; she tries to say something to_ MRS. BRAMSON, _and fails. She makes an effort, and runs out of the front door. It bangs behind her._ DAN _comes back from the bedroom, carrying a shawl._ DAN (_over-casual_): What was that at the door? MRS. BRAMSON: My niece. Gone for the night, if you please. DAN: Gone ... for the night? (_He stares before him._) MRS. BRAMSON: Would you believe it? Says she's frightened.... _A pause._ Come along with the shawl, dear. I'm freezing.... DAN (_with a laugh, putting the shawl round her_): Don't know what's up with me-- _He goes to the table and looks at a newspaper._ MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen, her coat on._ MRS. TERENCE: Well, I must go on me way rejoicin'. MRS. BRAMSON: Everybody seems to be going. What is all this? MRS. TERENCE: What d'you want for lunch tomorrow? MRS. BRAMSON: Lunch to-morrow?... Let me see.... DAN: Lunch? To-morrow?... (_After a pause_) What about a nice little steak? MRS. BRAMSON: A steak, let me see.... Yes, with baked potatoes-- DAN: And a nice roly-poly puddin', the kind you like? MRS. BRAMSON: I think so. MRS. TERENCE: Something light. O.K. Good night. _She goes back into the kitchen._ DAN _scans the newspaper casually._ MRS. BRAMSON (_inquisitive_): What are you reading, dear? DAN (_breezily_): Only the murder again. About the clues that wasn't any good. MRS. BRAMSON (_suddenly_): Danny, _d'you_ think Olivia's a thief? DAN: Shouldn't be surprised. MRS. BRAMSON: What! DAN: Her eyes wasn't very wide apart. MRS. BRAMSON (_working herself up_): Goodness me ... my jewel-box ... what a fool I was to let her go--my earrings ... the double-faced-- _She wheels herself furiously into her bedroom._ DORA, _her hat and coat on, comes in from the kitchen in time to see her go._ DORA: What's up with her? DAN (_still at his paper_): Thinks she's been robbed. DORA: Oh, is that all.... That's the fourth time this month she's thought that. One of these days something _will_ 'appen to her, and will I be pleased? Oh, baby!... Where's Mrs. Terence? DAN: Gone, I think. DORA (_frightened_): Oh, law, no! (_Calling_) Mrs. Terence! MRS. TERENCE (_calling, in the kitchen_): Ye-es! DORA: You 'aven't gone without me, 'ave you? MRS. TERENCE (_appearing at the kitchen door, spearing a hatpin into her hat_): Yes, I'm 'alf-way there. What d'you think?