STEVE. ‘Surely the boy felt the spell.’ She shakes her head. ‘But the boys always did.’ ALICE, wryly, ‘They were older boys.’ STEVE. ‘I believe I was the only one you never flirted with.’ ALICE, smiling, ‘No one could flirt with you, Steve.’ STEVE, pondering, ‘I wonder why.’ The problem has troubled him occasionally for years. ALICE. ‘I wonder.’ STEVE. ‘I suppose there’s some sort of want in me.’ ALICE. ‘Perhaps that’s it. No, it’s because you were always such a good boy.’ STEVE, wincing, ‘I don’t know. Sometimes when I saw you all flirting I wanted to do it too, but I could never think of how to begin.’ With a sigh, ‘I feel sure there’s something pleasant about it.’ ALICE, ‘You’re a dear, old donkey, Steve, but I’m glad you came, it has made the place seem more like home. All these years I was looking forward to home; and now I feel that perhaps it is the place I have left behind me.’ The joyous gurgling of Molly draws them to the nursery door; and there they are observed by Amy and Ginevra who enter from the hall. The screen is close to the two girls, and they have so often in the last week seen stage figures pop behind screens that, mechanically as it were, they pop behind this one. STEVE, who little knows that he is now entering on the gay career, ‘Listen to the infant.’ ALICE. ‘Isn’t it horrid of Robert to get on with her so well. Steve, say Robert’s a brute.’ STEVE, as he bids her good afternoon, ‘Of course he is; a selfish beast.’ ALICE. ‘There’s another kiss to you for saying so.’ The doomed woman presents her cheek again. STEVE. ‘And you’ll come to me after dinner to-night, Alice? Here, I’ll leave my card, I’m not half a mile from this street.’ ALICE. ‘I mayn’t be able to get away. It will depend on whether my silly husband wants to stay with his wretch of a baby. I’ll see you to the door. Steve, you’re _much_ nicer than Robert.’ With these dreadful words she and the libertine go. Amy and Ginevra emerge white to the lips; or, at least, they feel as white as that. AMY, clinging to the screen for support, ‘He kissed her.’ GINEVRA, sternly, ‘He called her Alice.’ AMY. ‘She is going to his house to-night. An assignation.’ GINEVRA. ‘They will be chambers, Amy--they are always chambers. And after dinner, he said--so he’s stingy, too. Here is his card: “Mr. Stephen Rollo.’” AMY. ‘I have heard of him. They said he was a nice man.’ GINEVRA. ‘The address is Kensington West. That’s the new name for West Kensington.’ AMY. ‘My poor father. It would kill him.’ GINEVRA, the master mind, ‘He must never know.’ AMY. ‘Ginevra, what’s to be done?’ GINEVRA. ‘Thank heaven, we know exactly what to do. It rests with you to save her.’ AMY, trembling, ‘You mean I must go--to his chambers?’ GINEVRA, firmly, ‘At any cost.’ AMY. ‘Evening dress?’ GINEVRA. ‘It is always evening dress. And don’t be afraid of his Man, dear; they always have a Man.’ AMY. ‘Oh, Ginevra.’