GEORGE DEDMOND enters from the hall. He is in evening dress,
opera hat, and overcoat; his face is broad, comely, glossily
shaved, but with neat moustaches. His eyes, clear, small, and
blue-grey, have little speculation. His hair is well brushed.
GEORGE. [Handing PAYNTER his coat and hat] Look here, Paynter!
When I send up from the Club for my dress things, always put in a
black waistcoat as well.
PAYNTER. I asked the mistress, sir.
GEORGE. In future--see?
PAYNTER. Yes, sir. [Signing towards the window] Shall I leave the
sunset, sir?
But GEORGE has crossed to the curtained door; he opens it and
says: "Clare!" Receiving no answer, he goes in. PAYNTER
switches up the electric light. His face, turned towards the
curtained door, is apprehensive.
GEORGE. [Re-entering] Where's Mrs. Dedmond?
PAYNTER. I hardly know, sir.
GEORGE. Dined in?
PAYNTER. She had a mere nothing at seven, sir.
GEORGE. Has she gone out, since?
PAYNTER. Yes, sir--that is, yes. The--er--mistress was not dressed
at all. A little matter of fresh air, I think; sir.
GEORGE. What time did my mother say they'd be here for Bridge?
PAYNTER. Sir Charles and Lady Dedmond were coming at half-past nine;
and Captain Huntingdon, too--Mr. and Mrs. Fullarton might be a bit
late, sir.
GEORGE. It's that now. Your mistress said nothing?
PAYNTER. Not to me, sir.
GEORGE. Send Burney.
PAYNTER.
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