JAMES.  You love me. [Draws her to him.

CATHERINE.  Don’t make me say that, James.

JAMES.  I will make you say it!  You do love me.

CATHERINE.  No matter if I do, that won’t alter matters.

JAMES.  What?  What?

CATHERINE.  No, no, don’t say any more....  I won’t hear it. [She stands free of JAMES—­then turns and walks to the stairs.] Good-bye, Jim.

JAMES.  Do you mean it?  Are you really going to sacrifice yourself because of—­Am I really losing you?...  Catherine!  Catherine!

CATHERINE. [In tears—­beseechingly.] Please don’t....  Please don’t....

FREDERIK enters.  Until the entrance of FREDERIK, PETER has had hope in his face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive.

FREDERIK. [Throwing his hat and coat on a chair.] I have some work to do—­more of my uncle’s unopened mail; then I’ll join you, Hartman.  We must—­er—­make haste.

JAMES looks at CATHERINE, then at FREDERIK.  CATHERINE gives him an imploring glance—­urging him not to speak. FREDERIK has gone to PETER’S desk.

JAMES.  I’ll come back later. [Goes towards the hall.

FREDERIK.  Catherine, have you asked James to be present at the ceremony to-morrow?

CATHERINE.  No.

FREDERIK.  James, will you—­

JAMES.  I shall be leaving early in the morning.

FREDERIK.  Too bad! [Exit JAMES.

FREDERIK lights the desk candles, takes the mail out of the drawer—­opens two letters—­tears them up after barely glancing at them—­then sees CATHERINE still standing at the foot of the stairs—­her back to him.  He lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses her.

CATHERINE. [With a revulsion of feeling.] No!  No!  No! [She covers her face with her hands—­trying to control herself.] Please!...  Not now....

FREDERIK.  Why not now? [Suspiciously.] Has Hartman been talking to you?  What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE starts slowly up the stairs.] Wait a moment, please.... [As she retreats a step up the stairs, he follows her.] Do you really imagine you—­you care for that fellow?

CATHERINE.  Don’t—­please.

FREDERIK.  I’m sorry to insist.  Of course, I knew there was a sort of school-girl attachment on your part; ... that you’d known each other since childhood.  I don’t take it at all seriously.  In three months, you’ll forget him.  I must insist, however, that you do not speak to him again to-night.  After to-morrow—­after we are married—­I’m quite sure that you will not forget you are my wife, Catherine—­my wife.

CATHERINE.  I sha’n’t forget. [She escapes into her room. FREDERIK goes to his desk.