Bill.  Suppose what you like, sir.

Sits William.  I warn you, if you play the blackguard——­

Bill.  You can’t force me like young Dunning.

     Hearing the raised voices lady Cheshire has come back from the
     billiard-room.

Lady Cheshire. [Closing the door] What is it?

Sir William.  You deliberately refuse!  Go away, Dorothy.

Lady Cheshire. [Resolutely] I haven’t seen Bill for two months.

Sir William.  What! [Hesitating] Well—­we must talk it over again.

Lady Cheshire.  Come to the billiard-room, both of you!  Bill, do finish those letters!

With a deft movement she draws sir William toward the billiard-room, and glances back at Bill before going out, but he has turned to the writing-table.  When the door is closed, Bill looks into the drawing-room, them opens the door under the stairs; and backing away towards the writing-table, sits down there, and takes up a pen.  Freda who has evidently been waiting, comes in and stands by the table.

Bill.  I say, this is dangerous, you know.

Freda.  Yes—­but I must.

Bill.  Well, then—­[With natural recklessness] Aren’t you going to kiss me?

     Without moving she looks at him with a sort of miserable inquiry.

Bill.  Do you know you haven’t seen me for eight weeks?

Freda.  Quite—­long enough—­for you to have forgotten.

Bill.  Forgotten!  I don’t forget people so soon.

Freda.  No?

Bill.  What’s the matter with you, Freda?

Freda. [After a long look] It’ll never be as it was.

Bill. [Jumping up] How d’you mean?

Freda.  I’ve got something for you. [She takes a diamond ring out of her dress and holds it out to him] I’ve not worn it since Cromer.

Bill.  Now, look here

Freda.  I’ve had my holiday; I shan’t get another in a hurry.

Bill.  Freda!

Freda.  You’ll be glad to be free.  That fortnight’s all you really loved me in.

Bill. [Putting his hands on her arms] I swear——­

Freda. [Between her teeth] Miss Lanfarne need never know about me.

Bill.  So that’s it!  I’ve told you a dozen times—­nothing’s changed.
     [Freda looks at him and smiles.]

Bill.  Oh! very well!  If you will make yourself miserable.

Freda.  Everybody will be pleased.

Bill.  At what?

Freda.  When you marry her.

Bill.  This is too bad.

Freda.  It’s what always happens—­even when it’s not a—­gentleman.