JOHN. No. Downright ill and distressed. [_To both of them._] You’ve seen her in Court? SHAFTO. Yes. ELPHICK. Yes. JOHN. Yesterday? SHAFTO. We said “How d’ye do” to her yesterday. ELPHICK. We told you. JOHN. Oh, yes, To-day? SHAFTO. Not to speak to. ELPHICK. She nodded to us this morning from the—what do they call it?—not the sink—— SHAFTO. Well. ELPHICK. Well of the Court. JOHN. Denzil. SHAFTO. ’Ullo? JOHN. She was very pretty when I married her, wasn’t she? SHAFTO. Undoubtedly. [JOHN _sits, leaning his head upon his hands_. SHAFTO _walks away, quietly, to the window_. ELPHICK _sits on the settee, and, turning his face to the fire, strikes up a tune on his banjo_. JOHN. That’s right! tune up, Peter! If I had a savage breast this evening you might soothe it with your Tinka-tinka-tinka-tinka-tink, as Kipling says. But I haven’t—isn’t that odd? Boys, do you know, all the bitterness I’ve been feeling towards her seems to have died out of me; and she’s been dragging me pretty thoroughly through the mud lately. Isn’t that odd? SHAFTO. [_Leaving the window, and coming to the back of settee._] Well, she’s lost the day, you see. ELPHICK. [_Ceasing playing._] She’s beaten; got nothin’ for her pains. JOHN. I suppose that’s it. Ah, but her face! I hadn’t seen it for months. And the silence between us was so strange. SHAFTO. Yes, there wasn’t much of _that_, old chap, between you two when you were together. JOHN. No; _didn’t_ we quarrel! And yet, this morning, during our little deadly-silent encounter, she seemed to say more to me than she’d ever said in her life before. By Jove, she _has_ suffered—[_starting up_]—oh, damn it! [_He paces to and fro_; ELPHICK _hurriedly resumes his playing_. SHAFTO. [_Seating himself on the back of the settee, speaking with a drawl._] Ah, I shouldn’t worry myself too much, if I were you, about that. Other people have suffered. JOHN. [_Pausing in his walk._] Mrs. Fraser——? SHAFTO. [_Indifferently._] Oh, she amongst ’em. JOHN. [_In a low voice._] Poor little Theo Fraser! I’m forgetting her.