WEDGECROFT.  I’m off to Percival’s now.  Then I’ve another case and I’m due back at twelve.  If there’s anything helpful to say I’ll look in again for two minutes ... not more.

TREBELL.  You’re a good man.

WEDGECROFT. [As he goes.] Congratulations, Kent.

KENT. [Taking him to the stairs.] Thank you very much.

AMY. [Beckoning with her eyes.] What’s this, Mr. Trebell?

TREBELL.  Eh?  I beg your pardon.

      He goes behind her and reads over her shoulder what she has written.
      KENT comes back.

KENT.  Shall I bring him up here?

      TREBELL looks up and for a moment stares at his secretary rather
      sharply, then speaks in a matter-of-fact voice.

TREBELL.  See him yourself, downstairs.  Talk to him for five minutes ... find out what he wants.  Tell him it will be as well for the next week or two if he can say he hasn’t seen me.

KENT.  Yes.

      He goes. TREBELL follows him to the door which he shuts.  Then he
      turns to face AMY, who is tearing up the paper she wrote on.

TREBELL.  What is it?

AMY. [Her steady voice breaking, her carefully calculated control giving way.] Oh Henry ...  Henry!

TREBELL.  Are you in trouble?

AMY.  You’ll hate me, but ... oh, it’s brutal of you to have been away so long.

TREBELL.  Is it with your husband?

AMY.  Perhaps.  Oh, come nearer to me ... do.

TREBELL. [Coming nearer without haste or excitement.] Well? [Her eyes are closed.] My dear girl, I’m too busy for love-making now.  If there are any facts to be faced, let me have them ... quite quickly.

      She looks up at him for a moment; then speaks swiftly and sharply as
      one speaks of disaster.

AMY.  There’s a danger of my having a child ... your child ... some time in April.  That’s all.

TREBELL. [A sceptic who has seen a vision.] Oh ... it’s impossible.

AMY. [Flashing at him, revengefully.] Why?

TREBELL. [Brought to his mundane self] Well ... are you sure?

AMY. [In sudden agony.] D’you think I want it to be true?  D’you think I—? 
You don’t know what it is to have a thing happening in spite of you.

TREBELL. [His face set in thought.] Where have you been since we met?

AMY.  Not to Ireland ...  I haven’t seen Justin for a year.

TREBELL.  All the easier for you not to see him for another year.

AMY.  That wasn’t what you meant.

TREBELL.  It wasn’t ... but never mind.

      They are silent for a moment ... miles apart ...  Then she speaks
      dully.

AMY.  We do hate each other ... don’t we!

TREBELL.  Nonsense.  Let’s think of what matters.