_Muriel._ He has such pretty ways! That new shade of blue is very fashionable, Mrs. AVERIDGE. But it's a little _trying_ to you, do you know? You don't mind my saying so, do you? [_Amenities continue._ _Mr. Averidge._ It's perfectly amazing! That boy knows everything. He talks politics---- _Claude._ He's a staunch Tory! _Mr. Averidge._ Literature---- _Claude._ He tells me he's not a Romanticist; he cares only for the Classics. _Mr. Averidge._ Art---- _Claude_ (_resigned_). He dismisses Symbolism with a word, smiles at Impressionism as old-fashioned, but speaks most kindly both of MILLAIS and WHISTLER. He calls them "poor dears." I _think_ that was the phrase. I won't be sure, but I think so. _Mr. Averidge._ Yes, he's astounding. [_Ponders._ _Claude_ (_to_ MURIEL). Aren't we going to have some music? How I should like you to play those chants to me again! Won't you, Miss VANE? I _love_ sacred music so. _Muriel._ Yes; with pleasure. VIOLA has had my organ put in the billiard-room, to be out of the way. [_Rises._ _Claude_ (_as he and_ MURIEL _go into the billiard-room_). The worst point about these clever boys is that they are so cynical! No sentiment--no heart! [_Continues ad lib._ _On the Terrace._ _Alan_ (_to_ VIOLA). You have very wonderful eyes, Mrs. TRAVERS, haven't you? _Viola._ Have I? _Alan._ You know you have. Do you believe in palmistry? _Viola._ I think I do. Do you? _Alan._ I don't know whether I believe in it, I _like_ it.... Your line of life.... [_Continues ad lib._ _In the Drawing-room._ _Albert._ That boy is bewildering! He flits over every subject under the sun! Have a game of piquet, AVERIDGE? [_They play piquet._ _In the Billiard-room._ MURIEL _playing the organ_. CLAUDE _by her side trying to look like_ DICKSEE'S _picture, "Harmony."_ _Claude._ Do you ever have that curious feeling that you are doing exactly what you have done before, hearing--seeing something for the second time? _Muriel._ Oh, yes! continually! I felt it during the whole of dinner! _Claude._ Do you think it shows we knew each other in a previous existence, Miss VANE? _Muriel._ No. I am afraid it only shows that you sometimes repeat yourself. [_She smiles._ _Claude._ How can you be so unkind, and yet look such a perfect angel! _Muriel._ I feel exactly like St. Cecilia when I am playing the organ. _Claude._ And _I_ feel like St. Anthony, Miss VANE. _On the Terrace._ _Alan._ To get right away from people, to take a drive together, and bathe our heads in the golden sunlight! In secret! Do--_do_ let us, Mrs. TRAVERS! [Illustration: "Bathing her head in the golden sunlight."] _Viola._ It _would_ be nice! ALBERT is going to town for the day, and the AVERIDGES are going for an excursion.... But what could we drive in?