_Alan._ No, about you. Things you don't know---- _Viola_ (_starting_). Oh! Is that someone we know? _Alan._ I _hope_ you wouldn't know a man who wears such a hat as that in the country! _Viola._ It's all right--I _don't_ know him. [_Sits down._ _Alan_ (_trying to recover the thread_). About yourself--your eyes, for instance. Has anyone ever told you how annihilating they are? _Viola._ I'm very glad you like them, Master ROY; but we really _must_ go now, Dr. ROBERTS will be there to tea, and they will think it odd---- _Alan_ (_ironically_). Oh, it would be terrible to miss Dr. ROBERTS--quite terrible! [_Follows her, thinking the expedition rather a failure. As he helps her into the dog-cart, she knocks her ankle very slightly._ _Viola._ Oh! Oh! I've broken my ankle! I shan't be able to walk home! It will all be found out! Oh, _why_ did we do this! [_She begins to cry._ _Alan_ (_to himself_). Why indeed! (_To_ VIOLA.) Poor dear child, how absolutely dreadful! But, if Dr. ROBERTS is there it will be all right. He can set it. _Viola._ Set it! How can you talk in that heartless way! _Why_ did you make me come for this drive? _Alan_ (_apologetically_). I really thought you seemed as if you'd like to! Come, I can't allow you to cry. [_Tries to dry her eyes. She moves away. He drops his whip and has to get out and pick it up. They drive back very quickly and in entire silence, save for a few groans from_ VIOLA. _Viola._ Well, I suppose I must try to hobble home. Yes, I'm a little better. Do take the horrid dog-cart away! It's an absurd one--brown and ridiculous. _Do_ I look as if I'd been crying--much? _Alan_ (_coldly but evasively_). You look perfectly charming. _Viola._ Oh! _take_ that buttercup out of your coat! Someone might suspect!---- [Illustration: At the garden gate.] _Muriel_ (_meeting_ VIOLA _at the garden gate_). Oh, VIOLA, such wonderful things have been happening! Quick--before we see anyone else. Dr. ROBERTS has been here. Well, he proposed to me! and I accepted him like a girl in a book! You see, you were out. _Viola._ All right. Oh, MURIEL, I am so ill, and so anxious. I have such a toothache, I can hardly walk. I hurt my foot, reading to a poor woman in a cottage. _Muriel._ Some tea will cure you. But, VIOLA, will you and ALBERT be nice about my engagement? _Viola._ The truth is I had such a dull, wretched, idiotic drive with ALAN ROY, that I can't be nice about anything. _Muriel._ Will you consult VALENTINE? Dr. ROBERTS, you know? _Viola._ How can you go and get engaged to people called VALENTINE! _At Dinner. Everyone very cheery, except_ CLAUDE MIGNON, _who looks depressed, and_ Mrs. AVERIDGE, _who is unnoticed_. _Albert_ (_serving soup_). What _is_ that ring? _Viola._ Oh, nothing.