SARAH. Will you give that to Sir Charles . . . a letter he wrote me which I did not open. This, my answer, which I did not send. _He takes the one letter courteously, the other she puts back._ SARAH. I'm such a coward, Mr. Tetgeen. MR. TETGEEN. May I say how sorry . . . ? SARAH. Thank you. MR. TETGEEN. And let me apologise for having expressed one opinion of my own. SARAH. He wants to get rid of me. He's a bit afraid of me, you know, because I fight . . . and my weapons are all my own. This'll blow over. MR. TETGEEN. [_With a shake of the head._] You are to take this offer as final. SARAH. Beyond this? MR. TETGEEN. As I hinted, I am prepared to advise legal measures. SARAH. I could blow it over . . . but I won't perhaps. I must smile at my husband's consideration in suppressing even to you . . . the man's name. Butter and eggs . . . and milk. I should grow fat. ANN _appears suddenly_. ANN. We go to Brighton to-morrow! [_And she comes excitedly to her sister._] SARAH. Was that duel a stroke of genius? ANN. All sorts of things are to happen. SARAH. [_Turning from her to_ MR. TETGEEN.] And you'll walk as far as Reading? MR. TETGEEN. Dear me, yes. SARAH. [_To_ ANN.] I'll come back. SARAH _takes_ MR. TETGEEN _towards the house_. ANN _seats herself. After a moment_ LORD JOHN CARP, _his clothes dusty with some riding appears from the other quarter. She looks up to find him gazing at her._ LORD JOHN. Ann, I've ridden back to see you. ANN. [_After a moment._] We're coming to Brighton tomorrow. LORD JOHN. Good. ANN. Papa's not dead. LORD JOHN. [_With equal cheerfulness._] That's good. ANN. And he said we should be seeing more of you. LORD JOHN. Here I am. I love you, Ann. [_He goes on his knees._] ANN. D'you want to marry me? LORD JOHN. Yes. ANN. Thank you very much; it'll be very convenient for us all. Won't you get up? LORD JOHN. At your feet. ANN. I like it. LORD JOHN. Give me your hand. ANN. No. LORD JOHN. You're beautiful. ANN. I don't think so. You don't think so. LORD JOHN. I do think so. ANN. I should like to say I don't love you. LORD JOHN. Last night you kissed me. ANN. Do get up, please. LORD JOHN. As you wish. _Now he sits by her._ ANN. Last night you were nobody in particular . . . to me. LORD JOHN. I love you. ANN. Please don't; I can't think clearly. LORD JOHN. Look at me. ANN. I'm sure I don't love you because you're making me feel very uncomfortable and that wouldn't be so. LORD JOHN. Then we'll think. ANN. Papa . . . perhaps you'd rather not talk about Papa. LORD JOHN. Give yourself to me. ANN. [_Drawing away from him._] Four words! There ought to be more in such a sentence . . . it's ridiculous. I want a year to think about its meaning. Don't speak. LORD JOHN. Papa joins our party. ANN. That's what we're after . . . thank you. LORD JOHN. I loathe politics. ANN. Tell me something against them.