Myra
I’m not going on like anything.
Simon
Yes, you are; you’re going on like Medusa, and there are awful snakes popping their heads out at me from under your hat—I shall be turned to stone in a minute, and then you’ll be sorry.
Myra
Laughing.
You’re very sweet, and I’m veryvery fond of you.
Simon
Tell me what you’ve been doing—everything.
Myra
Nothing.
Simon
What did you do after you’d dined with Charlie Templeton?