_Col. G._ Quite ready, sir. _Ger._ I'm sorry I spoke to you so hastily. The fact is-- _Col. G._ Don't mention it, sir. Speak as you will to me; I shan't mind it. When there's anything on a man's conscience--I--I--I mean on a man's mind-- _Ger._ What _do_ you mean? _Col. G._ I mean, when there is anything there, he can't well help his temper, sir. _Ger._ I don't understand you; but, anyhow, you--go too far, William. _Col. G._ I beg your pardon, sir: I forgot myself. I do humbly beg your pardon. Shall I make some fresh coffee, sir? It's not cold--only it's stood too long. _Ger._ The coffee will do well enough. (_Exit_ COL. G.)--Is she so beautiful? (_turning to the Psyche_)--Is there a likeness?--I see it.--Nonsense! A mere chance confluence of the ideal and the actual.--Even then the chance must mean something. Such a _mere_ chance would indeed be a strange one! _Enter_ CONSTANCE. Oh, my heart! here she comes! my Psyche herself!--Well, Constance! _Con._ Oh, Arthur, I am _so_ glad I've found you! I want to talk to you about something. I know you don't care much about me now, but I _must_ tell you, for it would be wrong not. _Ger._ (_aside_). How beautiful she is! What _can_ she have to tell me about? It cannot be--it _shall_ not be--. Sit down, won't you? (_offering her a chair_.) _Con._ No. _You_ sit there (_pointing to the dais_), and I will sit here (_placing herself on the lower step_). It was here I used to sit so often when I was a little girl. Why can't one keep little? I was always with you then! (_Sighs_.) _Ger._ It is not my fault, Constance. _Con._ Oh no! I suppose it can't be. Only I don't see why. Oh, Arthur, where should I be but for you! I saw the old place yesterday. How dreadful and yet how dear it was! _Ger._ Who took you there? _Con._ Nobody. I went alone. _Ger._ It was hardly safe.--I don't like your going out alone, Constance. _Con._ Why, Arthur! I used to know every court and alley about Shoreditch better than I know Berkeley Square now! _Ger._ But what made you go there? _Con._ I went to find a dressmaker who has been working for my aunt, and lost my way. And--would you believe it?--I was actually frightened! _Ger._ No wonder! There are rough people about there. _Con._ I never used to think them rough when I lived among them with my father and mother. There must be just as good people there as anywhere else. Yet I could not help shuddering at the thought of living there again!--How strange it made me feel! You have been my angel, Arthur. What would have become of me if you hadn't taken me, I dare not think. _Ger._ I have had my reward, Constance: you are happy. _Con._ Not quite. There's something I want to tell you. _Ger._ Tell on, child. _Con._ Oh, thank you!--that is how you used to talk to me. (_Hesitates_.) _Ger._ (_with foreboding_) Well, what is it?