WIFE. We owe it more than that--rebellion against the dry-as-dust. PROF. Quite. I might develop that: "We owe it our revolt against the academic; or our disgust at 'big business,' and all the grossness of commercial success. We owe----". [His voice peters out.] WIFE. It--love. PROF. [Abstracted] Eh! WIFE. I said: We owe it love. PROF. [Rather startled] Possibly. But--er [With a dry smile] I mustn't say that here--hardly! WIFE. [To herself and the moonlight] Orpheus with his lute! PROF. Most people think a lute is a sort of flute. [Yawning heavily] My dear, if you're not going to sing again, d'you mind sitting down? I want to concentrate. WIFE. I'm going out. PROF. Mind the dew! WIFE. The Christian virtues and the dew. PROF. [With a little dry laugh] Not bad! Not bad! The Christian virtues and the dew. [His hand takes up his pen, his face droops over his paper, while his wife looks at him with a very strange face] "How far we can trace the modern resurgence against the Christian virtues to the symbolic figures of Orpheus, Pan, Apollo, and Bacchus might be difficult to estimate, but----" [During those words his WIFE has passed through the window into the moonlight, and her voice rises, singing as she goes: "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees..."] PROF. [Suddenly aware of something] She'll get her throat bad. [He is silent as the voice swells in the distance] Sounds queer at night-H'm! [He is silent--Yawning. The voice dies away. Suddenly his head nods; he fights his drowsiness; writes a word or two, nods again, and in twenty seconds is asleep.] [The Stage is darkened by a black-out. FRUST's voice is heard speaking.] FRUST. What's that girl's name? VANE. Vanessa Hellgrove. FRUST. Aha! [The Stage is lighted up again. Moonlight bright on the orchard; the room in darkness where the PROFESSOR'S figure is just visible sleeping in the chair, and screwed a little more round towards the window. From behind the mossy boulder a faun-like figure uncurls itself and peeps over with ears standing up and elbows leaning on the stone, playing a rustic pipe; and there are seen two rabbits and a fox sitting up and listening. A shiver of wind passes, blowing petals from the apple-trees.]