AMY O'CONNELL. I shall go for a walk with my neuralgia.
MRS. FARRANT. Poor thing!
AMY O'CONNELL. The moon's good for it.
LUCY DAVENPORT. Shall you come, Aunt Julia?
MRS. FARRANT. [_In flat protest._] No, I will not sit up while you play
billiards.
MRS. O'CONNELL _goes out through the one window, stands for a moment,
wistfully romantic, gazing at_ KENT _are standing at the other,
looking across the lawn._
FARRANT. Horsham still arguing with Maconochie. They're got to Botany now.
WALTER KENT. Demonstrating something with a ... what's that thing?