TARLETON. _[giving his hand rather dolefully]_ Thanks. That means no, doesnt it? LINA. It means something that will last longer than yes. I like you. I admit you to my friendship. What a pity you were not trained when you were young! Youd be young still. TARLETON. I suppose, to an athlete like you, I'm pretty awful, eh? LINA. Shocking. TARLETON. Too much crumb. Wrinkles. Yellow patches that wont come off. Short wind. I know. I'm ashamed of myself. I could do nothing on the high rope. LINA. Oh yes: I could put you in a wheelbarrow and run you along, two hundred feet up. TARLETON. _[shuddering]_ Ugh! Well, I'd do even that for you. Read The Master Builder. LINA. Have you learnt everything from books? TARLETON. Well, have you learnt everything from the flying trapeze? LINA. On the flying trapeze there is often another woman; and her life is in your hands every night and your life in hers. TARLETON. Lina: I'm going to make a fool of myself. I'm going to cry _[he crumples into the nearest chair]._ LINA. Pray instead: dont cry. Why should you cry? Youre not the first I've said no to. TARLETON. If you had said yes, should I have been the first then? LINA. What right have you to ask? Have I asked am _I_ the first? TARLETON. Youre right: a vulgar question. To a man like me, everybody is the first. Life renews itself. LINA. The youngest child is the sweetest. TARLETON. Dont probe too deep, Lina. It hurts. LINA. You must get out of the habit of thinking that these things matter so much. It's linendraperish. TARLETON. Youre quite right. Ive often said so. All the same, it does matter; for I want to cry. _[He buries his face in his arms on the work-table and sobs]._ LINA. _[going to him]_ O la la! _[She slaps him vigorously, but not unkindly, on the shoulder]._ Courage, old pal, courage! Have you a gymnasium here? TARLETON. Theres a trapeze and bars and things in the billiard room. LINA. Come. You need a few exercises. I'll teach you how to stop crying. _[She takes his arm and leads him off into the vestibule]._ _A young man, cheaply dressed and strange in manner, appears in the garden; steals to the pavilion door; and looks in. Seeing that there is nobody, he enters cautiously until he has come far enough to see into the hatstand corner. He draws a revolver, and examines it, apparently to make sure that it is loaded. Then his attention is caught by the Turkish bath. He looks down the lunette, and opens the panels._ HYPATIA. _[calling in the garden]_ Mr Percival! Mr Percival! Where are you?