TREBELL.  No, they can’t see so far as we can.  That’s the proper creed.

AMY O’CONNELL. [Softly, almost shyly.] Henry.

TREBELL. [Bending closer to her.] Yes, pretty thing.

AMY O’CONNELL.  Is this what you call being in love?

      He looks up and listens.

TREBELL.  Here’s somebody coming.

AMY O’CONNELL.  Oh!...

TREBELL.  What does it matter?

AMY O’CONNELL.  I’m untidy or something....

      She slips out, for they are close to the window.  The FOOTMAN
      enters, stops suddenly.

THE FOOTMAN.  I beg your pardon, sir.  I thought everyone had gone.

TREBELL.  I’ve just been for a walk.  I’ll lock up if you like.

THE FOOTMAN.  I can easily wait up, sir.

TREBELL. [At the window.] I wouldn’t.  What do you do ... just slide the bolt?

THE FOOTMAN.  That’s all, sir.

TREBELL.  I see.  Good-night.

THE FOOTMAN.  Good-night, sir.

      He goes. TREBELL’S demeanour suddenly changes, becomes alert, with
      the alertness of a man doing something in secret.  He leans out of the
      window and whispers.

TREBELL.  Amy!

There is no answer, so he gently steps out.  For a moment the room is empty and there is silence.  Then AMY has flown from him into the safety of lights.  She is flushed, trembling, but rather ecstatic, and her voice has lost all affectation now.

AMY O’CONNELL.  Oh ... oh ... you shouldn’t have kissed me like that!

      TREBELL stands in the window-way; a light in his eyes, and speaks low
      but commandingly.

TREBELL.  Come here.

      Instinctively she moves towards him.  They speak in whispers.

AMY O’CONNELL.  He was locking up.

TREBELL.  I’ve sent him to bed.

AMY O’CONNELL.  He won’t go.

TREBELL.  Never mind him.

AMY O’CONNELL.  We’re standing full in the light ... anyone could see us.

TREBELL. [With fierce egotism.] Think of me ... not of anyone else. [He draws her from the window; then does not let her go.] May I kiss you again?

AMY O’CONNELL. [Her eyes closed.] Yes.

      He kisses her.  She stiffens in his arms; then laughs almost joyously,
      and is commonplace.

AMY O’CONNELL.  Well ... let me get my breath.

TREBELL. [Letting her stand free.] Now ... go along.

      Obediently she turns to the door, but sinks on the nearest chair.

AMY O’CONNELL.  In a minute, I’m a little faint. [He goes to her quickly.]
No, it’s nothing.

TREBELL.  Come into the air again. [Then half seriously.] I’ll race you across the lawn.

AMY O’CONNELL. [Still breathless and a little hysterical.] Thank you!