AMY. ‘No; I thought of that. But she couldn’t, you know, even though she was held up. Mother couldn’t help thinking the scene was a good omen, though.’ They both look at the ceiling again. ‘How still they are.’ GINEVRA. ‘Perhaps she hasn’t had the courage to tell.’ AMY. ‘If so, I must go on with it.’ GINEVRA, feeling rather small beside Amy, ‘Marry him?’ AMY. ‘Yes. I must dree my weird. Is it dree your weird, or weird your dree?’ GINEVRA. ‘I think they both do.’ She does not really care; nobler thoughts are surging within her. ‘Amy, why can’t I make some sacrifice as well as you?’ Amy seems about to make a somewhat grudging reply, but the unexpected arrival of the man who has so strangely won her seals her lips. AMY. ‘You!’ with a depth of meaning, ‘Oh, sir.’ STEVE, the most nervous of the company, ‘I felt I must come. Miss Grey, I am in the greatest distress, as the unhappy cause of all this trouble.’ AMY, coldly, ‘You should have thought of that before.’ STEVE. ‘It was dense of me not to understand sooner--very dense.’ He looks at her with wistful eyes. ‘Must I marry you, Miss Grey?’ AMY, curling her lip, ‘Ah, that is what you are sorry for!’ STEVE. ‘Yes--horribly sorry.’ Hastily, ‘Not for myself. To tell you the truth, I’d be--precious glad to risk it--I think.’ AMY, with a glance at Ginevra, ‘You would?’ STEVE. ‘But very sorry for you. It seems such a shame to you--so young and attractive--and the little you know of me so--unfortunate.’ AMY. ‘You mean you could never love me?’ STEVE. ‘I don’t mean that at all.’ AMY. ‘Ginevra!’ Indeed Ginevra feels that she has been obliterated quite long enough. GINEVRA, with a touch of testiness in her tone, ‘Amy--introduce me.’ AMY. ‘Mr. Stephen Rollo--Miss Dunbar. Miss Dunbar knows all.’ Ginevra makes a movement that the cynical might describe as brushing Amy aside. GINEVRA. ‘May I ask, Mr. Rollo, what are your views about woman?’ STEVE. ‘Really I--’ GINEVRA. ‘Is she, in your opinion, her husband’s equal, or is she his chattel?’ STEVE. ‘Honestly, I am so beside myself--’ GINEVRA. ‘You evade the question.’ AMY. ‘He means chattel, Ginevra.’ GINEVRA. ‘Mr. Rollo, I am the friend till death of Amy Grey. Let that poor child go, sir, and I am prepared to take her place beside you--Yes, at the altar’s mouth.’ AMY. ‘Ginevra.’ GINEVRA, making that movement again, ‘Understand I can neither love nor honour you--at least at first--but I will obey you.’ AMY. ‘Ginevra, you take too much upon yourself.’ GINEVRA. ‘I _will_ make a sacrifice--I will.’ AMY. ‘You shall not.’ GINEVRA. ‘I feel that I understand this gentleman as no other woman can. It is my mission, Amy--’ The return of Alice is what prevents Steve’s seizing his hat and flying. It might not have had this effect had he seen the lady’s face just before she opened the door. ALICE, putting her hand to her poor heart, ‘You have come here, Steve? Oh no, it is not possible.’