y of things in general. [_After a pause, he goes on with his
reading._] Compose yourself!

MISS HENEAGE, MRS. PHILLIMORE _and_ GRACE _come in._ CYNTHIA
_sighs without letting her sigh be heard. She tries to
compose herself. She glances at the paper and then, hearing_
MISS HENEAGE, _starts slightly._ MISS HENEAGE _and_ MRS.
PHILLIMORE _stop at the table._

MISS HENEAGE. [_Carrying a sheet of paper._] There, my dear Mary, is
the announcement as I have now reworded it. I took William's
suggestion. [MRS. PHILLIMORE _takes and casually reads it._] I also
put the case to him, and he was of the opinion that the announcement
should be sent _only_ to those people who are really _in_ society.
[_She sits near the table._ CYNTHIA _braces herself to bear the_
PHILLIMORE _conversation._

GRACE. I wish you'd make an exception of the Dudleys.

[CYNTHIA _rises and moves to the chair by the table._

MISS HENEAGE. And, of course, that excludes the Oppenheims--the
Vance-Browns.

MRS. PHILLIMORE. It's just as well to be exclusive.

GRACE. I do wish you'd make an exception of Lena Dudley.

MISS HENEAGE. We might, of course, include those new Girardos, and
possibly--possibly the Paddingtons.

GRACE. I do wish you would take in Lena Dudley.

[_They are now sitting._

MRS. PHILLIMORE. The mother Dudley is as common as a charwoman, and
not nearly as clean.

PHILIP. [_Sighing, his own feelings, as usual, to the fore._] Ah! I
certainly am fatigued!

CYNTHIA _begins to slowly crush the newspaper she has been
reading with both hands, as if the effort of self-repression
were too much for her._

MISS HENEAGE. [_Making the best of a gloomy future._] We shall have to
ask the Dudleys sooner or later to dine, Mary--because of the elder
girl's marriage to that dissolute French Marquis.

MRS. PHILLIMORE. [_Plaintively._] I don't like common people any more
than I like common cats, and of course in my time--

MISS HENEAGE. I think I shall include the Dudleys.

MRS. PHILLIMORE. You think you'll include the Dudleys?

MISS HENEAGE. Yes, I think I will include the Dudleys!

_Here_ CYNTHIA'S _control breaks down. Driven desperate by
their chatter, she has slowly rolled her newspaper into a
ball, and at this point tosses it violently to the floor and
bursts into hysterical laughter._

MRS. PHILLIMORE. Why, my dear Cynthia--Compose yourself.

PHILIP. [_Hastily._] Wha