ROOPE. [_Dryly._] I see, you've slept on it. PHILIP. Laid awake on it. [_Fiercely._] Do I look as if I'd slept the sleep of a healthy infant? ROOPE. I don't know anything about infants, I am happy to say, healthy or ailing; but certainly your treatment of Madame de Chaumie was atrocious. PHILIP. Brutal, savage, inhuman! [_Halting and extending his arms._] And what's been her fault? She's dared to love me eagerly, impetuously, uncontrollably--_me_, a conceited, egotistical fellow who is no more worth her devotion than the pompous beast who opens her father's front-door! And because, out of her love, she commits a heedless, impulsive act which deals a blow at my rotten pride, I slap her face and turn my back upon her, and suffer her to leave my rooms as though she's a charwoman detected in prigging silver from my cash-box! [_Clasping his brow and groaning._] Oh--! [_In sudden fury at seeing_ ROOPE _thoughtfully examining his hat._] Damn it, Robbie, stop fiddling with your hat or you'll drive me crazy! [_He sits on the settee on the left and rests his head on his fists._ ROOPE _hastily deposits his hat on the smoking-table._ ROOPE. [_Approaching_ PHILIP _coldly._] I was considering, dear excellent friend--but perhaps in your present state of irritability---- PHILIP. [_Holding out his hand penitently._] Shut up! ROOPE. [_Presenting_ PHILIP _with two fingers._] I was considering--when you almost sprang at my throat--I was considering that it isn't at all unlikely that Madame de Chaumie's frame of mind is a trifle less inflexible this morning. _She_ has slept--or laid awake--on the events of last night too, recollect. PHILIP. [_Raising his head._] Having been kicked out of this place a few hours ago, her affection for me revives with the rattle of the milk-cans! ROOPE. [_Evasively._] At any rate, she must be conscious that you were smarting under provocation. She confessed as much during our talk. [_Magnanimously._] Even _I_ admit you had provocation. PHILIP. _That_ never influenced a woman, Robbie. Besides, I've insulted this one before--grossly insulted her, in the old days in Paris---- ROOPE. Ancient history! _My_ advice is--since you invite it--my advice is that you write her a letter---- PHILIP. I've composed half-a-dozen already. [_Pointing to a waste-paper basket by the writing-table._] The pieces are in that basket. ROOPE.