BETTY. [_Moaning._] You don't, you don't!
[_She stands there, crushed, overwhelmed, dry-eyed, broken moans
escaping from her; suddenly she hears a key turning in the lock
of the hall-door outside, and rushes to the card-table._
BETTY. Hector! Quick, quick--the cards!
[WALTER _flies to the table, and sits by her side. He seizes one
pack and proceeds to shuffle it, she is dealing with the other.
All this takes only a second._ HECTOR _comes in--they both spring
up._
BETTY. Hector! You're not ill?
HECTOR. [_Kissing her._] Play postponed, my child--bit of luck! When I got
to the theatre I found that the actor-manager's car had collided with a
cab outside the stage-door--he was thrown through the window--there's a
magnificent exit for you! and has been cut about a bit. Nothing serious.
But the play's postponed for a week. Bit of luck!
WALTER. [_Sitting._] Not for him.
HECTOR. Oh _he_ has had luck enough--tons of it! I'll get into a
jacket--then we'll have some bridge. See what progress you've made, Betty!
[_He hurries out, and closes the door._
BETTY. [_Producing a little mirror from her bag, looking into it,
touching her hair._] We were only just in time.
WALTER. [_Eagerly, as he bends across the table._] You're splendid--you
are--splendid!
BETTY. Yes. All very nice and comfortable for you--isn't it? [_She puts
the mirror back into the bag._]
WALTER. [_Coaxingly._] Betty.