To an empty phrase must one sacrifice one's life? Must one stake everything on the judgment of one's youth? By the decision of a moment must one be bound for ever? Must one go through the world "with quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth?" Does one not owe a duty to oneself? There can be but one answer! GERALD [_absently_]. Margery! [_MARGERY winces as if struck--quite serious now. Then with energy._] But, Agnes, Margery is impossible! She's no companion to me! I am all alone! Her very laughter grates upon me! There's no meaning in it! It is the laughter of a tomboy, of a clown! And she will never learn! She's hopeless, Agnes, hopeless! [_MARGERY drops back horror-struck, but her face disappears only by degrees. MRS. SYLVESTER lays her hand on him. Another pause. The curtains close._] What is one to do? [_Rising._ MRS. SYLVESTER. We are face to face with the problem! Let us confront it boldly. Gerald, do you love me? [_A thud behind the curtains. GERALD starts guiltily. Pause. They stand looking at one another._ GERALD [_in a whisper_]. What was that? [_Goes up cautiously and draws curtains back, discovering MARGERY stretched senseless on the floor._] Margery! ACT III. _A Fortnight Later._ SCENE.--_Drawing-room at LADY WARGRAVE'S. Main entrance C., Conservatory R. Entrance, L., to an inner room. Fireplace, R., up stage, near which is LADY WARGRAVE'S chair, with the cushion of Act I._ _The stage is discovered half-filled with Guests, who stand and sit in groups, including COLONEL, CAPTAIN and MRS. SYLVESTER, and GERALD. LADY WARGRAVE is receiving her guests. A buzz of general conversation; and a band is heard playing in the inner room, loudly at first, but softly after the picture is discovered._ SERVANT [_at entrance C._]. Miss Vivash and Mr. Pettigrew! _Enter VICTORIA, followed leisurely by PERCY, a very young man who is always smiling to himself, unconsciously._ VICTORIA [_going straight to LADY WARGRAVE and grasping her hand_]. Good evening, Lady Wargrave, I have taken the liberty of bringing a friend whose name is no doubt known to you--Mr. Percy Pettigrew. [_PERCY bows distantly, smiling._ LADY WARGRAVE. Pettigrew, did you say? PERCY. Percy _Bysshe_ Pettigrew. [_Smiling._ LADY WARGRAVE. Of course! _two_ of your names are _quite_ well known to me; it is only the surname that is unfamiliar. PERCY [_smiling_]. Pettigrew! [_Turns off._ GERALD. One of my Oxford friends. LADY WARGRAVE [_aside to him_]. One of those who are always at Oxford? VICTORIA. His "Supercilia" are quoted everywhere. LADY WARGRAVE. His----? GERALD. A column Percy does for "The Corset." VICTORIA. A newspaper devoted to our cause. GERALD. "The Corset" is Percy's organ. LADY WARGRAVE. Ah, his rattle! SERVANT. Dr. Bevan. DR. BEVAN [_shakes hands with LADY WARGRAVE_]. I hope I am not late; but I was detained at the hospital. Most interesting case, unhappily unfit for publication. SERVANT. Miss Bethune. [_Exit SERVANT._