BOBBY.  Good-night, Mrs. Knowle.

MRS. KNOWLE.  Good-night!  And remember (in a loud whisper) what Shakespeare said. (She presses his hand and holds it) Good-night!  Good-night! . . .  Good-night!

MR. KNOWLE.  Shakespeare said so many things.  Among others, he said, “Good-night, good-night, parting is such sweet sorrow, that I could say good-night till it be morrow.” (MRS. KNOWLE looks at him severely, and then, without saying anything, goes over to him and holds up her cheek.) Good-night, my dear.  Sleep well.

MRS. KNOWLE.  In five minutes, Jane.

JANE.  Yes, Aunt Mary.

(MRS. KNOWLE goes to the door, BOBBY hurrying in front to open it for her.)

MRS. KNOWLE (at the door).  I shall not sleep well.  I shall lie awake all night.  Dr. Anderson will be very much distressed.  “Dr. Anderson,” I shall say, “it is not your fault.  I lay awake all night, thinking of my loved ones.”  In five minutes, Jane.

    [She goes out.

MR. KNOWLE.  An exacting programme.  Well, I shall be in the library, if anybody wants to think of me—­or say good-night to me—­or anything like that.

JANE.  Then I’d better say good-night to you now, Uncle Henry. (She goes up to him.)

MR. KNOWLE (kissing her).  Good-night, dear.

JANE.  Good-night.

MR. KNOWLE.  If there’s anybody else who wants to kiss me—­what about you, Bobby?  Or will you come into the library and have a smoke first?

BOBBY.  Oh, I shall be going to bed directly, I think.  Rather tired to-day, somehow.

MR. KNOWLE.  Then good-night to you also.  Dear me, what a business this is.  Sandy has left us for ever, I understand.  If she should come back, Jane, and wishes to kiss the top of my head, she will find it in the library—­just above the back of the armchair nearest the door. [He goes out.

JANE.  Did Sandy go out into the garden?

BOBBY (gloomily).  Yes—­about five minutes ago.

JANE (timidly).  I’m so sorry, Bobby.

BOBBY.  Thanks, it’s awfully decent of you. (After a pause) Don’t let’s talk about it.

JANE.  Of course I won’t if it hurts you, Bobby.  But I felt I had to say something, I felt so sorry.  You didn’t mind, did you?

BOBBY.  It’s awfully decent of you to mind.

JANE (gently).  I mind very much when my friends are unhappy.

BOBBY.  Thanks awfully. (He stands up, buttons his coat, and looks at himself) I say, do you see anything wrong with it?

JANE.  Wrong with what?

BOBBY.  My clothes. (He revolves slowly.)

JANE.  Of course not.  They fit beautifully.

BOBBY.  Sandy’s so funny about things.  I don’t know what she means half the time.

JANE.  Of course, I’m very fond of Melisande, but I do see what you mean.  She’s so (searching for the right word)—­so romantic.