[_Inadvertently._] She _oughtn't_ to have. LILY. [_Withdrawing her hand again, sharply._] She calls herself _H_upjohn, you mean! FARNCOMBE. [_Distressed._] No, no, no. [_In a difficulty._] Er-- at any rate, h's don't lead you to heaven, do they? LILY. [_Gloomily._] You're right; mother's lead _her_ to _'eaven_. [_Rising and walking away._] Well, you'd better go now. FARNCOMBE. [_Rising._] And to-night----? LILY. No; I'll come home alone. FARNCOMBE. Lily----! LILY. [_Imperatively._] Please----! FARNCOMBE. When----? LILY. [_Moving to the door on the left._] Not for two or three days. Give me time to shake down over this. FARNCOMBE. [_Taking up his hat and cane which he has left upon the centre table._] Sunday? LILY. [_Fretfully._] No. FARNCOMBE. Monday? LILY. [_Opening the door._] No. FARNCOMBE. [_Joining her at the door._] Tuesday? LILY. [_Appealingly._] I-- I'll write. [_Again he takes her hand, she keeping him at a distance. He attempts to lessen the distance, but she checks him, shaking her head._] Not just yet, Eddie. [_He smiles at her tenderly and, with a bow, departs. From the doorway, she watches him disappear; then she shuts the door and wanders listlessly to the door of the bedroom. Her hand lingers upon the knob for a moment, and then she opens the door a little way and calls._] Mother! Mother----! [_She leaves the door and is returning to the settee when MRS. UPJOHN enters._ MRS. UPJOHN. [_All agog._] Yes, Lil? [_LILY seats herself upon the settee without speaking._] Yes, dearie; yes? [_Advancing to the centre table._] 'Ave they given you your choice? LILY. [_Dully._] No; they've given me no choice. MRS. UPJOHN. [_Advancing further._] Wot----? LILY. Nicko's going out to South Africa, mother. MRS. UPJOHN. South Africa! LILY. Well, to Rhodesia. MRS. UPJOHN. Then you're free, Lil! LILY. No, I'm not. MRS. UPJOHN. Not! LILY. Nicko-- Nicko's handed me over, mother. MRS. UPJOHN. 'Anded you over! LILY. To-- to Lord Farncombe. MRS. UPJOHN. [_Gasping._] An' you an' the young gentleman----! LILY. I-- I suppose so. MRS. UPJOHN. Oh--! [_Sinking into the arm chair by the centre table._] Oh, the dear Captain! LILY. [_Transferring herself from the settee to MRS. UPJOHN'S lap._] Oh! Oh! Oh! [_Putting her arms round MRS. UPJOHN'S neck._] Oh, poor Nicko! MRS. UPJOHN. [_Soothingly._] 'E'll 'ave 'is reward, Lil; 'e'll 'ave 'is reward 'ereafter. LILY. And poor Carlton Smythe! Oh, poor Carlton! MRS. UPJOHN. Poor Carlton----? LILY. He's losing every one of his best girls, mother. Gwennie Harker-- Maidie Trevail-- Eva Shafto-- and now _me_! Oh, poor Carlton! MRS. UPJOHN. 'Ush, dearie; 'ush! Don't consider _'im_! [_Rocking LILY to and fro like a baby._] Think-- think wot a lot o' good you're all doin' to the aristocracy! [_The door on the left opens and JIMMIE and ROPER look in gleefully and then tiptoe towards LILY and MRS. UPJOHN._ THE END.