You cannot be gentleman gamblers! [And then, recalling that she has just decreed the whole charade inconsequential—] Oh fine. He will hate you all the same.
[They have reached the dreaded doorstep. And here is the door with its faded green paint and it's brass knocker in the shape of a cut branch. Wysteria steps up onto the little stone step and jerks on the bell. And then she tries the latch and it comes directly open, and consequentially they may all spill into the cramped foyer beyond nearly in time with the appearance of a stick thin old woman rushing in from the door at the other end of the hall, bawling with a tack sharp contralto that, 'We're full up. Go back the way you came—oh!']
Mrs. Gilbert, you must forgive me! I've left my key behind. Could you please lend me yours? I promise to return it directly. [Mrs. Gilbert's eye has clearly already moved past Wysteria to—] These are my...
[She does not look at either Bastien or Valentine, but there is a general hopeless air about the hanging end of the not quite explanation regardless.]
no subject
[They have reached the dreaded doorstep. And here is the door with its faded green paint and it's brass knocker in the shape of a cut branch. Wysteria steps up onto the little stone step and jerks on the bell. And then she tries the latch and it comes directly open, and consequentially they may all spill into the cramped foyer beyond nearly in time with the appearance of a stick thin old woman rushing in from the door at the other end of the hall, bawling with a tack sharp contralto that, 'We're full up. Go back the way you came—oh!']
Mrs. Gilbert, you must forgive me! I've left my key behind. Could you please lend me yours? I promise to return it directly. [Mrs. Gilbert's eye has clearly already moved past Wysteria to—] These are my...
[She does not look at either Bastien or Valentine, but there is a general hopeless air about the hanging end of the not quite explanation regardless.]