[She lowers the cup and saucer by a degree, studying the line of his shoulder, the exhausted set of his expression--

Isabeau sniffs. She leans forward, sets the saucer back on the tea tray, and downs the rest of her biscuit.]

You know I think I may have misread that article. On the way over I overheard some ladies saying the show isn't particularly good. Maybe it'd be best to give the production some breathing room so the cast can iron the wrinkles out. A week. [She fetches up the cup again, settling back in the armchair.] Maybe two.