(Dorothy _and_ Roger _embrace each other, if they can do it without causing a scandal in the neighbourhood, and the curtain goes down._) XLI. "A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING" _The scene is a drawing-room (in which the men are allowed to smoke--or a smoking-room in which the women are allowed to draw--it doesn't much matter) in the house of somebody or other in the country._ George Turnbull _and his old College friend_, Henry Peterson, _are confiding in each other, as old friends will, over their whiskies and cigars. It is about three o'clock in the afternoon._ ~George~ (_dreamily, helping himself to a stiff soda_). Henry, do you remember that evening at Christ Church College, five years ago, when we opened our hearts to each other?... ~Henry~ (_lighting a cigar and hiding it in a fern-pot_). That moonlight evening on the Backs, George, when I had failed in my Matriculation examination? ~George.~ Yes; and we promised that when either of us fell in love the other should be the first to hear of it? (_Rising solemnly._) Henry, the moment has come. (_With shining eyes._) I am in love. ~Henry~ (_jumping up and grasping him by both hands_). George! My dear old George! (_In a voice broken with emotion._) Bless you. George! (_He pats him thoughtfully on the back three times, nods his own head twice, gives him a final grip of the hand, and returns to his chair._) ~George~ (_more moved by this than he cares to show_). Thank you. Henry. (_Hoarsely._) You're a good fellow. ~Henry~ (_airily, with a typically British desire to conceal his emotion_). Who is the lucky little lady? ~George~ (_taking out a picture postcard of the British Museum and kissing it passionately_). Isobel Barley! (_If_ Henry _is not careful he will probably give a start of surprise here, with the idea of suggesting to the audience that he_ (1) _knows something about the lady's past, or_ (2) _is in love with her himself. He is, however, thinking of a different play. We shall come to that one in a moment._) ~Henry~ (_in a slightly dashing manner_). Little Isobel? Lucky dog! ~George.~ I wish I could think so. (_Sighs._) But I have yet to approach her, and she may be another's. (_Fiercely._) Heavens, Henry, if she should be another's! _Enter_ Isobel. ~Isobel~ (_brightly_). So I've run you to earth at last. Now what have you got to say for yourselves? ~Henry~ (_like a man_). By Jove! (_Looking at his watch._) I had no idea--is it really--poor old Joe--waiting---- (_Dashes out tactfully in a state of incoherence._) ~George~ (_rising and leading_ Isobel _to the front of the stage_). Miss Barley, now that we are alone I have something I want to say to you.