OLIVE. [_Tearfully._] Oh——! oh, I would try! [_He leaves her, and walks about agitatedly. She sits on the settee, weeping._ JOHN. [_Rather wildly._] Well, I—I only want to cleanse the slate. My cursed stupidity has smeared poor little Mrs. Fraser’s character; I want to put _that_ right. It cuts me to the heart to see how wretched _you_ are, Olive; I want to put _that_ right. Oh, if we fail again——! OLIVE. We c—c—can’t fail again—it’s impossible! JOHN. [_Desperately, throwing himself into the chair._] All right! Heaven have mercy upon us—we’re reconciled! Ring the bell. [_She rises and touches the bell-press, and with the aid of the mirror over the mantelpiece attempts to adjust her hair and straighten her bonnet, he watching her._] By Jove, you have pluck! OLIVE. To face these people? JOHN. [_With a short laugh._] I call it true courage. OLIVE. It’s nothing; I am so happy. Oh, John, you shall never regret this. [QUAIFE _enters_. JOHN. [_Rising._] Show Mrs. Cloys and the two gentlemen in here. QUAIFE. Yes, sir. JOHN. Tell them that Mr. and _Mrs._ Allingham are now disengaged. QUAIFE. Yes, sir. [_He withdraws._ OLIVE. [_Turning sharply._] _Mrs._ Allingham——? JOHN. It wouldn’t be quite fair to spring you upon them suddenly—— OLIVE. You’ve given them warning; they may hurry away, to avoid me! JOHN. No, no—— OLIVE. If they did do such a thing——! [_Agitatedly._] Gurrrh! I can’t get my bonnet to sit straight. May I take it off, and receive them as if I were—at home? JOHN. If you would rather do so—— OLIVE. [_Going to the dining-room door._] Is there a mirror in here? JOHN. Yes. [_She goes out hurriedly._] Let me hold the lamp for you—— [_He follows her. After a brief pause_, QUAIFE _re-enters, showing in_ MRS. CLOYS, SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD, _and_ CLAUDE. QUAIFE _withdraws_. MRS. CLOYS. [_After looking round the room._] The wife. SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. The wife! MRS. CLOYS. Who could have anticipated anything so extraordinary. SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.