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45.<br />
FLORENCE’S gaze is fixed on the carpet.<br />
REV. WOOLLETT (CONT’D)<br />
...a little delicate... Not something<br />
you could discuss with an old man like<br />
me.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
I’m just being silly.<br />
REV. WOOLLETT<br />
Could you not talk to your mother?<br />
FLORENCE cannot restrain another nervous laugh. The idea is<br />
preposterous. She stands.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
I should go.<br />
REV. WOOLLETT<br />
Stay just a little longer. There’s<br />
something I want to say...<br />
She waits, but she does not sit.<br />
REV. WOOLLETT (CONT’D)<br />
You can change your mind, you can<br />
delay. There’s no rush, everybody will<br />
understand. So your father’s ordered a<br />
marquee, your mother is getting<br />
measured for a dress, invitations are<br />
at the printers - Flo, these are minor<br />
details, trifles compared to what’s at<br />
stake. It’s not too late to hold back.<br />
FLORENCE is smiling. She senses it is too late.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
I really have to go. I’m giving a<br />
lesson.<br />
As she turns a little too hurriedly to leave, she knocks over a<br />
low table bearing a teapot and cake, sends them flying to the<br />
floor. Her exclamation has an edge of hysterical energy.
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