DORA: He's sort of Welsh, I think. 'E's been to sea, too. He's funny, of course. Ever so open. Baby-face they call him. Though I never seem to get 'old of what 'e's thinking, somehow-- MRS. BRAMSON: I'll get hold of what he's thinking, all right. I've had my knife into that sort ever since I was a girl. DORA: Oh, mum, if I got him to let you speak to him--d'you think I could stay on? MRS. BRAMSON (_after a pause): If_ he marries you at once. DORA: Shall I--(_Eagerly_) As a matter of fact, ma'am, he's gone on a message on his bicycle to Payley Hill this morning, and he said he might pop in to see me on the way back-- MRS. BRAMSON: That's right; nothing like visitors to brighten your mornings, eh? I'll deal with him. DORA: Yes.... (_Going, and turning at the kitchen door--in impulsive relief_) Oh, ma'am-- MRS. BRAMSON: And I'll stop the Crown Derby out of your wages. DORA (_crestfallen_): Oh! MRS. BRAMSON: What were you going to say? DORA: Well, ma'am, I _was_ going to say I don't know how to thank you for your generosity.... _She goes into the kitchen. The clock chimes_. MRS. BRAMSON: Olivia! OLIVIA: Yes, auntie? MRS. BRAMSON: You've forgotten again. Medicine's overdue. Most important. OLIVIA _crosses to the medicine cupboard and fetches the medicine._ MRS. TERENCE _comes in from the kitchen with a vase of flowers and barges between the sofa and the wheelchair_. MRS. TERENCE (_muttering_): All this furniture ... MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): Did _you_ know she's having a baby? MRS. TERENCE (_coldly_): She did mention it in conversation. MRS. BRAMSON: Playing with fire, that's the game nowadays. MRS. TERENCE (_arranging flowers as_ OLIVIA _gives_ MRS. BRAMSON _her medicine_): Playing with fiddlesticks. We're only young once; that 'ot summer too. She's been a fool, but she's no criminal. And, talking of criminals, there's a p'liceman at the kitchen door. MRS. BRAMSON: A what? MRS. TERENCE: A p'liceman. A bobby. MRS. BRAMSON: What does he want? MRS. TERENCE: Better ask 'im. I know _my_ conscience is clear; I don't know about other people's. MRS. BRAMSON: But I've never had a policeman coming to see me before! DORA _runs in from the kitchen_. DORA (_terrified_): There's a man there! From the p'lice! 'E said something about the Tallboys! 'E--'e 'asn't come about me, 'as 'e? MRS. TERENCE: Of course he 'asn't-- MRS. BRAMSON: He may have. MRS. TERENCE: Don't frighten the girl; she's simple enough now. MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_); It's against the law, what she's done, isn't it? (_To_ DORA) Go back in there till he sends for you. DORA _creeps back into the kitchen_. OLIVIA (_at the left window_): He isn't a policeman, as a matter of fact. He must be a plain-clothes man. MRS. TERENCE (_sardonically_): Scotland Yard, I should think. _BELSIZE is seen outside, crossing the left window to the front door._ MRS. BRAMSON: That place in those detective books? Don't be so silly.