Tut, tut, my dear. I'm pleasing myself, that's all. And now you'd like me to run away, I know, so that you can think it all over by yourself. I can't tell you, my dear, how very happy you've made me. I--I never felt like this before, and I don't know what to say. I can feel it, but I can't tell it to you. May I----? (_She involuntarily shrinks away_.) Ah, not yet, dear--not till you've learnt to love me a little more, eh? (_Kisses her hand_.) Good-bye for a little while, my dear. (_He goes out._) NELLY MORRIS. (_Left alone, she stands for awhile where he has left her, then, slouly crossing to fire, she takes from round her neck a locket, and, opening it, takes out a small picture and looks at it._) Poor Jack! Poor me! (_She tears the miniature in two and lets the pieces fall into the fire. Ted's voice is faintly heard, and Jack's in answer to it. Nelly goes out L., closing door behind her and taking her work-box off table with her. There is a moment's pause, and then door at back opens and Ted enters, followed by Jack. They are both young fellows of three or four and twenty. Both are poorly dressed, Ted is ill and worn looking, but gay and boyish in his manner; Jack is an older and graver man. Both men are smoking pipes._) TED MORRIS. Come in, old man. (_Calling_.) Are you in, Nelly? NELLY MORRIS. (_Calling from the inner room._) Yes, I'll be out in a minute, dear. TED MORRIS. Take your coat off, old man. You'll stop and have a bit of lunch? JACK MEDBURY. No, I won't, Ted, thanks--can't stop. Oughtn't to have come out at all--clear morning like this. TED MORRIS. (_At cupboard._) Oh you can't be always at work. Have some whiskey? JACK MEDBURY. Well, just a----(_Sees that bottle in Ted's hand is empty._) No--no I won't. Can't stand it in the morning. TED MORRIS. (_Much relieved, puts bottle away._) Perhaps you're right. Bad habit to get into. How's the picture getting on? JACK MEDBURY. Which one? That churchyard thing? TED MORRIS. No, no,--the big one--the Enid and Geraint. Ought to make a very pretty picture that, Jack. JACK MEDBURY. Yes--yes. I should like to be getting on with that. I want a face for the Enid, you know. TED MORRIS. Yes, I should say she'd look all the better for one. JACK MEDBURY. I was wondering if Nelly would mind sitting for it. TED MORRIS. Nelly! But you want someone very beautiful for that, don't you? JACK MEDBURY. Well, and don't you call---- No, you wouldn't, of course. I expect Helen of Troy's brothers never could understand what Paris saw in her. TED MORRIS. Oh, she's a dear little soul; but, seriously now, Jack, as an artist, is she beautiful? JACK MEDBURY. Oh, you're a fool, Ted. I don't mean to be insulting. (_Laughs._) But fancy your sitting opposite Nelly every day of your life, and then asking somebody else "_If_ she's beautiful!" TED MORRIS. Um! I must have another look at her. JACK MEDBURY.