JEAN (_opening the telegram_). May I? (_Reads, and glances over the paper at_ MISS LEVERING.) I've got your book. (_Crosses to_ MISS LEVERING, _and, looking at the back of the volume_) Dante! Whereabouts are you? (_Opening at the marker._) Oh, the "Inferno." MISS L. No; I'm in a worse place. JEAN. I didn't know there was a worse. MISS L. Yes; it's worse with the Vigliacchi. JEAN. I forget. Were they Guelf or Ghibelline? MISS L. (_smiling_). They weren't either, and that was why Dante couldn't stand them. (_More gravely._) He said there was no place in Heaven nor in Purgatory--not even a corner in Hell--for the souls who had stood aloof from strife. (_Looking steadily into the girl's eyes._) He called them "wretches who never lived," Dante did, because they'd never felt the pangs of partizanship. And so they wander homeless on the skirts of limbo among the abortions and off-scourings of Creation. JEAN (_a long breath after a long look. When_ MISS LEVERING _has turned away to make her leisurely adieux_ JEAN'S _eyes fall on the open telegram_). Aunt Ellen, I've got to go to London. (STONOR, _re-entering, hears this, but pretends to talk to_ MR. FREDDY, _&c._) LADY JOHN. My dear child! MRS. H. Nonsense! Is your grandfather worse? JEAN (_folding the telegram_). No-o. I don't think so. But it's necessary I should go, all the same. MRS. H. Go away when Mr. Stonor---- JEAN. He said he'd have to leave directly after luncheon. LADY JOHN. I'll just see Miss Levering off, and then I'll come back and talk about it. LORD J. (_to_ MISS LEVERING). Why are you saying goodbye as if you were never coming back? MISS L. (_smiling_). One never knows. Maybe I shan't come back. (_To_ STONOR.) Goodbye. (STONOR _bows ceremoniously. The others go up laughing._ STONOR _comes down_.) JEAN (_impulsively_). There mayn't be another train! Miss Levering---- STONOR (_standing in front of her_). What if there isn't? I'll take you back in the motor. JEAN (_rapturously_). _Will_ you? (_Inadvertently drops the telegram._) I must be there by three! STONOR (_picks up the telegram and a handkerchief lying near, glances at the message_). Why, it's only an invitation to dine--Wednesday! JEAN. Sh! (_Takes the telegram and puts it in her pocket._) STONOR. Oh, I see! (_Lower, smiling._) It's rather dear of you to arrange our going off like that. You _are_ a clever little girl! JEAN. It's not that I was arranging. I want to hear those women in Trafalgar Square--the Suffragettes. STONOR (_incredulous, but smiling_). How perfectly absurd! (_Looking after_ LADY JOHN.) Besides, I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like that. JEAN. Then she'll have to make an excuse and come too. STONOR. Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same---- JEAN (_rapidly thinking it out_). We could get back here in time for dinner. (GEOFFREY STONOR _glances down at the handkerchief still in his hand, and turns it half mechanically from corner to corner._)