STEVE, soothingly, ‘Come now, we won’t go into that again. It was just a mistake; and now that it is all settled and done with, I’ll tell you what we shall do. You will let me get you a cab--’ She shakes her head. ‘I promise not to listen to the address; and after you have had a good night you--you will see things differently.’ AMY, ashamed of her momentary weakness, and deciding not to enter it in the diary, ‘You are very clever, Mr. Stephen Rollo, but I don’t leave this house without the letters.’ STEVE, groaning, ‘Are they your letters?’ AMY. ‘How dare you! They are the letters written to you, as you well know, by--’ STEVE, eagerly, ‘Yes?’ AMY. ‘--by a certain lady. Spare me the pain, if you are a gentleman, of having to mention her name.’ STEVE, sulkily, ‘Oh, all right.’ AMY. ‘She is to pass out of your life to-night. To-morrow you go abroad for a long time.’ STEVE, with excusable warmth, ‘Oh, do I! Where am I going?’ AMY. ‘We thought--’ STEVE. ‘We?’ AMY. ‘A friend and I who have been talking it over. We thought of Africa--to shoot big game.’ STEVE, humouring her, ‘You must be very fond of this lady.’ AMY. ‘I would die for her.’ STEVE, feeling that he ought really to stick up a little for himself, ‘After all, am I so dreadful? Why shouldn’t she love me?’ AMY. ‘A married woman!’ STEVE, gratified, ‘Married?’ AMY. ‘How can you play with me so, sir? She is my mother.’ STEVE. ‘Your mother? Fond of me!’ AMY. ‘How dare you look pleased.’ STEVE. ‘I’m not--I didn’t mean to. I say, I wish you would tell me who you are.’ AMY. ‘As if you didn’t know.’ STEVE, in a dream, ‘Fond of me! I can’t believe it.’ Rather wistfully: ‘How could she be?’ AMY. ‘It was all your fault. Such men as you--pitiless men--you made her love you.’ STEVE, still elated, ‘Do you think I am that kind of man?’ AMY. ‘Oh, sir, let her go. You are strong and she is weak. Think of her poor husband, and give me back the letters.’ STEVE. ‘On my word of honour--’ Here arrives Richardson, so anxious to come that she is propelled into the room like a ball. ‘What is it?’ RICHARDSON. ‘A gentleman downstairs, sir, wanting to see you.’ AMY, saying the right thing at once, ‘He must not find me here. My reputation--’ STEVE. ‘I can guess who it is. Let me think.’ He is really glad of the interruption. ‘See here, I’ll keep him downstairs for a moment. Richardson, take this lady to the upper landing until I have brought him in. Then show her out.’ RICHARDSON. ‘Oh, lor’.’ AMY, rooting herself to the floor, ‘The letters!’ STEVE, as he goes, ‘Write to me, write to me. I must know more of this.’ RICHARDSON. ‘Come quick, Miss.’ AMY, fixing her, ‘You are not deceiving me? You are sure it isn’t a lady?’ RICHARDSON. ‘Yes, Miss--he said his name was Colonel Grey.’ Ginevra would have known that it must be the husband, but for the moment Amy is appalled. AMY, quivering, ‘Can he suspect!’ RICHARDSON, who has her own troubles, ‘About the chop?’