PRAED [sternly] Frank! [The two look at one another, Frank unruffled, Praed deeply indignant].  Let me tell you, Gardner, that if you desert her now you will behave very despicably.

FRANK.  Good old Praddy!  Ever chivalrous!  But you mistake:  it’s not the moral aspect of the case:  it’s the money aspect.  I really can’t bring myself to touch the old woman’s money now.

PRAED. And was that what you were going to marry on?

FRANK.  What else? I havn’t any money, nor the smallest turn for making it.  If I married Viv now she would have to support me; and I should cost her more than I am worth.

PRAED. But surely a clever bright fellow like you can make something by your own brains.

FRANK.  Oh yes, a little. [He takes out his money again].  I made all that yesterday in an hour and a half.  But I made it in a highly speculative business.  No, dear Praddy:  even if Bessie and Georgina marry millionaires and the governor dies after cutting them off with a shilling, I shall have only four hundred a year.  And he won’t die until he’s three score and ten:  he hasn’t originality enough.  I shall be on short allowance for the next twenty years.  No short allowance for Viv, if I can help it.  I withdraw gracefully and leave the field to the gilded youth of England.  So that settled.  I shan’t worry her about it:  I’ll just send her a little note after we’re gone.  She’ll understand.

PRAED [grasping his hand] Good fellow, Frank!  I heartily beg your pardon.  But must you never see her again?

FRANK.  Never see her again!  Hang it all, be reasonable.  I shall come along as often as possible, and be her brother.  I can not understand the absurd consequences you romantic people expect from the most ordinary transactions. [A knock at the door].  I wonder who this is.  Would you mind opening the door?  If it’s a client it will look more respectable than if I appeared.

PRAED. Certainly. [He goes to the door and opens it.  Frank sits down in Vivie’s chair to scribble a note].  My dear Kitty:  come in:  come in.

[Mrs Warren comes in, looking apprehensively around for Vivie.  She has done her best to make herself matronly and dignified.  The brilliant hat is replaced by a sober bonnet, and the gay blouse covered by a costly black silk mantle.  She is pitiably anxious and ill at ease:  evidently panic-stricken.]

MRS WARREN [to Frank] What!  Y o u r e here, are you?

FRANK [turning in his chair from his writing, but not rising] Here, and charmed to see you.  You come like a breath of spring.

MRS WARREN.  Oh, get out with your nonsense. [In a low voice] Where’s Vivie?

[Frank points expressively to the door of the inner room, but says nothing.]

MRS WARREN [sitting down suddenly and almost beginning to cry] Praddy:  won’t she see me, don’t you think?

PRAED. My dear Kitty:  don’t distress yourself.  Why should she not?