DUNSTAN RENSHAW. Ah, Murray! HUGH MURRAY. For her sake--for her sake! DUNSTAN RENSHAW. The moment you reach London send for Janet Preece--tell her the truth--entreat her to be silent. Tell her I will do all in my power to atone if she will be but silent--only silent--silent! LESLIE. [_From the garden._] Dunstan! The five minutes are gone. [_LESLIE runs on carrying some flowers. WILFRID follows, leisurely, smoking a cigarette._] LESLIE. Have I come back a minute too soon? [_To DUNSTAN._] You have had bad news; ah, don’t send me away again! You are troubled. DUNSTAN RENSHAW. Why, of course I am troubled. LESLIE. About nothing worse than leaving me? DUNSTAN RENSHAW. Isn’t that bad enough? LESLIE. [_Giving him a bunch of flowers._] For you. [_To HUGH._] Is it unbusiness-like to give you a flower? HUGH MURRAY. Thank you. [_WEAVER enters dressed for travelling._] WEAVER. The carriage is at the door, sir. DUNSTAN RENSHAW. Send it round to the gate. I will walk with Mrs. Renshaw through the garden. [_WEAVER retires._] LESLIE. Wilfrid is here to amuse you, Mr. Murray, if I am poor company. Must you leave us too? HUGH MURRAY. Thank you--yes. I turn my face homeward to-night. DUNSTAN RENSHAW. I have something more to say to Murray. [_To HUGH._] Will you drive down with me? [_HUGH assents silently._] DUNSTAN RENSHAW. [_Pointing into the distance._] Leslie, when the carriage gets to that little rise stand here and beckon to me till I am out of sight. LESLIE. Beckon to you? DUNSTAN RENSHAW. Yes, I want to remember it while we are apart as the last sign you made me--beckoning me to return. [_They go down the steps together._] HUGH MURRAY. Wilfrid, don’t ever tell her--your sister--that I asked you this. She is--quite happy? WILFRID BRUDENELL. Oh, she’s awfully happy. But, I say, isn’t she a lucky girl? HUGH MURRAY. Yes. Why? WILFRID BRUDENELL. To have the best fellow in the world for her husband. HUGH MURRAY. Look--they’re waiting for me. Good-bye. WILFRID BRUDENELL. Good-bye. [_He shakes hands with HUGH, who descends the steps._] No, I sha’n’t assist at Dun’s departure. I’m afraid Les will cry, and I can’t bear to see a girl cry; it makes me feel so dreadfully queer in the chest. Dun is saying good-bye to her now. Oh, well now, she is a brick! She’s rolled her handkerchief into a ball and put it in her pocket. There’s Murray. In he gets! Away they go! Poor Leslie’s head is drooping. Confound it, she’s taking out her handkerchief! I can’t stand it. [_PRISCILLA enters from the villa, crying._] PRISCILLA. Mr. Wilfrid. WILFRID BRUDENELL. Well? Oh, now, what are _you_ crying about? PRISCILLA. The young person, sir, who was with the two ladies who came to see our cartoon, has been sent back on foot, and she’s downstairs begging for a morsel of water; and, oh, Mr. Wilfrid, the poor thing looks so weak and ill! WILFRID BRUDENELL. Ill! Where is she?