JOHN: No. TOBY: Is it big? JOHN: Yes. TOBY: How big? JOHN: Middling. TOBY: Please; I’m not cross any more. (_Whispering very prettily._) Where is it? JOHN: Kiss. (_She does._) Turn round. (_She does._) On that chair. [_She sees a milliner’s box, and going to it, undoes it, and extracts an attractive little frock._ TOBY: Oh, you dear! It’s the one I saw in Shaftesbury Avenue ... isn’t it sweet? ... it cost a terrible lot ... you are _awful_ to spend so much money on me. I love it. (_She puts it in a chair to look at it._) Think I’ll look nice in it? JOHN: Shouldn’t be surprised. [_She undoes a button or two in the frock she has on, it slips from her, and there she stands half-naked and unashamed in the scantiest and daintiest of under-garments. She is going to try on her present, but:_ JOHN: Come here. [_She does. He puts his arms round her again; she snuggles her head on his shoulder and says softly:_ TOBY: Thank you. I’m sorry I was cross. JOHN: Do you hate me? TOBY: Sometimes. JOHN: Do you hate me now? TOBY: No. JOHN: Do you love me? [_For answer she looks up and her lips seek his--they kiss as lovers ... uncannily there is a shrill whistle in the room. TOBY disentangles herself with wide-open eyes._ JOHN: Sssssssh! [_A second whistle ... and a third, louder ... then silence; downstairs the enraged MR. FREEMAN has banged the tube back on its hook._ TOBY: _What_ever is it? JOHN: A speaking-tube. TOBY: A _speaking_-tube? ... who taught it? ... what’s it say? JOHN: All clear. TOBY: Doesn’t it want to be answered? JOHN: No. But it means we’re alone here--you and I. TOBY: Oh! [_She is near the speaking-tube; JOHN has gone to a big chair by the fire._ JOHN: Put the light out ... the switch is there by the door ... there, silly ... just in front of you ... that’s right. [_She works the switch; the lights go out--except one softly shaded one._ TOBY: Oooooooh! Nice. [_Meanwhile JOHN lights the gas-fire._ [_He holds a match where it should be and there is a terrific bang._ JOHN: Good lord! These gas fires’ll be the death of me. [_He tries another match--this time with the normal and successful result. He throws a big cushion on the ground beside his chair now in the soft half-light; she comes and makes herself comfortable upon it, leaning against him. They are quiet ... he caressing her, she gazing into the fire._ TOBY: It’s a funny gas-stove ... Mabel Claridge has got one like that in her room ... that man gave her another ring yesterday ... must of cost _hundreds_. She says there is nothing in it ... I _don’t_ think. [_Her conversation trails off ... the cushion is comfortable, the heat is pleasant through the flimsy things she has on, and she likes his fingers through her hair._ It’s lovely.... [_She leans luxuriously back towards him ... he kisses her._ JOHN: You dear---- TOBY: Thank you.