However, we can trust OLIVIA to see him through it, although it may
take time.)
(There are two ways of coming into the room; by the open windows
leading from the terrace or by the door. On this pleasant July morning
MR. PIM chooses the latter way--or rather ANNE chooses it for him; and
old MR. PIM, wistful, kindly, gentle, little MR. PIM, living in some
world of his own whither we cannot follow, ambles after her.)
ANNE. I'll tell Mr. Marden you're here, sir. Mr. Pim, isn't it?
PIM (coming back to this world). Yes--er--Mr. Carraway Pim. He doesn't
know me, you understand, but if he could just see me for a
moment--er--(He fumbles in his pockets) I gave you that letter?
ANNE. Yes, sir, I'll give it to him.
PIM (bringing out a letter which is not the one he was looking for,
but which reminds him of something else he has forgotten). Dear me!
ANNE. Yes, sir?
PIM. I ought to have sent a telegram, but I can do it on my way back.
You have a telegraph office in the village?
ANNE. Oh yes, sir. If you turn to the left when you get outside the
gates, it isn't more than a hundred yards down the hill.
PIM. Thank you, thank you. Very stupid of me to have forgotten.
[ANNE goes out.
(MR. PIM wanders about the room humming to himself, and looking
vaguely at the pictures.
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