(She tries hard not to smile, but she smiles and he smiles, and they make comic faces at each other, as they have done in similar circumstances since she first opened her eyes.) I shall be back before you can count a hundred. (He goes off humming his song so that she may still hear him when he is lost to sight; all just as so often before. She tries dutifully to count her hundred, but the wood grows dark and soon she is afraid again. She runs from tree to tree calling to her Daddy. We begin to lose her among the shadows.) MARGARET (Out of the impalpable that is carrying her away). Daddy, come back; I don't want to be a might-have-been. ACT III Lob's room has gone very dark as it sits up awaiting the possible return of the adventurers. The curtains are drawn, so that no light comes from outside. There is a tapping on the window, and anon two intruders are stealing about the floor, with muffled cries when they meet unexpectedly. They find the switch and are revealed as Purdie and his Mabel. Something has happened to them as they emerged from the wood, but it is so superficial that neither notices it: they are again in the evening dress in which they had left the house. But they are still being led by that strange humour of the blood. MABEL (looking around her curiously). A pretty little room; I wonder who is the owner? PURDIE. It doesn't matter; the great thing is that we have escaped Joanna. MABEL. Jack, look, a man! (The term may not be happily chosen, but the person indicated is Lob curled up on his chair by a dead fire. The last look on his face before he fell asleep having been a leery one it is still there.) PURDIE. He is asleep. MABEL. Do you know him? PURDIE. Not I. Excuse me, sir, Hi! (No shaking, however, wakens the sleeper.) MABEL. Darling, how extraordinary. PURDIE (always considerate). After all, precious, have we any right to wake up a stranger, just to tell him that we are runaways hiding in his house? MABEL (who comes of a good family). I think he would expect it of us. PURDIE (after trying again). There is no budging him. MABEL (appeased). At any rate, we have done the civil thing. (She has now time to regard the room more attentively, including the tray of coffee cups which MATEY had left on the table in a not unimportant moment of his history.) There have evidently been people here, but they haven't drunk their coffee. Ugh! cold as a deserted egg in a bird's nest. Jack, if you were a clever detective you could construct those people out of their neglected coffee cups. I wonder who they are and what has spirited them away? PURDIE. Perhaps they have only gone to bed. Ought we to knock them up? MABEL (after considering what her mother would have done). I think not, dear. I suppose we have run away, Jack--meaning to?