[_She untwines her arms and steps back. Slowly, with his hands hanging loosely, and his chin upon his breast,_ PHILIP _passes her and goes to the writing-table. There, dully and mechanically, he takes the unfinished page of manuscript from the portfolio, arranges it upon the blotting-pad and, seating himself at the table, picks up his pen. Very softly_ OTTOLINE _opens the vestibule door, gives_ PHILIP _a last look over her shoulder, and enters the vestibule, closing the door behind her. There is a pause, during which_ PHILIP _sits staring at his inkstand, and then the outer door slams. With an exclamation,_ PHILIP _drops his pen, leaps up, and rushes to the vestibule door._ PHILIP. Otto! Otto! [_Loudly._] Ottoline----! [_With his hand on the door-handle, he wavers, his eyes shifting wildly to and from the writing-table. Then, with a mighty effort, he pulls himself together, strides to the smoking-table, and loads and lights his pipe. Puffing at his pipe fiercely, he reseats himself before his manuscript and, grabbing his pen, forces himself to write. He has written a word or two when he falters--stops--and lays his head upon his arm on the table._ PHILIP. [_His shoulders heaving._] Oh, Otto--Otto----! THE END _Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. LTD. _At the Ballantyne Press_ LONDON AND EDINBURGH