Well, my dear?
[They speak in low voices.]
ANN. [Holding out a note.] This note from Canon Bentley. He's going
to bring her husband here this afternoon. [She looks at MRS. MEGAN.]
WELLWYN. Oh! [He also looks at MRS. MEGAN.]
ANN. And I met Sir Thomas Hoxton at church this morning, and spoke
to him about Timson.
WELLWYN. Um!
[They look at TIMSON. Then ANN goes back to the door, and
WELLWYN follows her.]
ANN. [Turning.] I'm going round now, Daddy, to ask Professor Calway
what we're to do with that Ferrand.
WELLWYN. Oh! One each! I wonder if they'll like it.
ANN. They'll have to lump it.
[She goes out into the house.]
WELLWYN. [Back at his easel.] You can shut your mouth now.
[MRS. MEGAN shuts her mouth, but opens it immediately to smile.]
WELLWYN. [Spasmodically.] Ah! Now that's what I want. [He dabs
furiously at the canvas. Then standing back, runs his hands through
his hair and turns a painter's glance towards the skylight.] Dash!
Light's gone! Off you get, child--don't tempt me!
[MRS. MEGAN descends. Passing towards the door of the model's
room she stops, and stealthily looks at the picture.]
TIMSON. Ah! Would yer!
WELLWYN. [Wheeling round.] Want to have a look? Well--come on!
[He takes her by the arm, and they stand before the canvas.
After a stolid moment, she giggles.]
WELLWYN. Oh! You think so?
MRS. MEGAN. [Who has lost her hoarseness.
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