_The young man makes for the door, but sees Percival coming. He turns and bolts into the Turkish bath, which he closes upon himself just in time to escape being caught by Percival, who runs in through the pavilion, bareheaded. He also, it appears, is in search of a hiding-place; for he stops and turns between the two tables to take a survey of the room; then runs into the corner between the end of the sideboard and the wall. Hypatia, excited, mischievous, her eyes glowing, runs in, precisely on his trail; turns at the same spot; and discovers him just as he makes a dash for the pavilion door. She flies back and intercepts him._ HYPATIA. Aha! arnt you glad Ive caught you? PERCIVAL. _[illhumoredly turning away from her and coming towards the writing table]_ No I'm not. Confound it, what sort of girl are you? What sort of house is this? Must I throw all good manners to the winds? HYPATIA. _[following him]_ Do, do, do, do, do. This is the house of a respectable shopkeeper, enormously rich. This is the respectable shopkeeper's daughter, tired of good manners. _[Slipping her left hand into his right]_ Come, handsome young man, and play with the respectable shopkeeper's daughter. PERCIVAL. _[withdrawing quickly from her touch]_ No, no: dont you know you mustnt go on like this with a perfect stranger? HYPATIA. Dropped down from the sky. Dont you know that you must always go on like this when you get the chance? You must come to the top of the hill and chase me through the bracken. You may kiss me if you catch me. PERCIVAL. I shall do nothing of the sort. HYPATIA. Yes you will: you cant help yourself. Come along. _[She seizes his sleeve]._ Fool, fool: come along. Dont you want to? PERCIVAL. No: certainly not. I should never be forgiven if I did it. HYPATIA. Youll never forgive yourself if you dont. PERCIVAL. Nonsense. Youre engaged to Ben. Ben's my friend. What do you take me for? HYPATIA. Ben's old. Ben was born old. Theyre all old here, except you and me and the man-woman or woman-man or whatever you call her that came with you. They never do anything: they only discuss whether what other people do is right. Come and give them something to discuss. PERCIVAL. I will do nothing incorrect. HYPATIA. Oh, dont be afraid, little boy: youll get nothing but a kiss; and I'll fight like the devil to keep you from getting that. But we must play on the hill and race through the heather. PERCIVAL. Why? HYPATIA. Because we want to, handsome young man. PERCIVAL. But if everybody went on in this way-- HYPATIA. How happy! oh how happy the world would be! PERCIVAL. But the consequences may be serious. HYPATIA. Nothing is worth doing unless the consequences may be serious. My father says so; and I'm my father's daughter. PERCIVAL. I'm the son of three fathers. I mistrust these wild impulses.