Bill.  That’s enough.

Freda.  But I’m not like that girl down in the village.  You needn’t be afraid I’ll say anything when—­it comes.  That’s what I had to tell you.

Bill.  What!

Freda.  I can keep a secret.

Bill.  Do you mean this? [She bows her head.]

Bill.  Good God!

Freda.  Father brought me up not to whine.  Like the puppies when they hold them up by their tails. [With a sudden break in her voice] Oh!  Bill!

Bill. [With his head down, seizing her hands] Freda! [He breaks away from her towards the fire] Good God!

She stands looking at him, then quietly slips away by the door under the staircase.  Bill turns to speak to her, and sees that she has gone.  He walks up to the fireplace, and grips the mantelpiece.

Bill.  By Jove!  This is——!

The curtain falls.

ActII

The scene is lady CHESHIRE’s morning room, at ten o’clock on the following day.  It is a pretty room, with white panelled walls; and chrysanthemums and carmine lilies in bowls.  A large bow window overlooks the park under a sou’-westerly sky.  A piano stands open; a fire is burning; and the morning’s correspondence is scattered on a writing-table.  Doors opposite each other lead to the maid’s workroom, and to a corridor.  Lady Cheshire is standing in the middle of the room, looking at an opera cloak, which Freda is holding out.

Lady Cheshire.  Well, Freda, suppose you just give it up!

Freda.  I don’t like to be beaten.

Lady Cheshire.  You’re not to worry over your work.  And by the way,
I promised your father to make you eat more. [Freda smiles.]

Lady Cheshire.  It’s all very well to smile.  You want bracing up.  Now don’t be naughty.  I shall give you a tonic.  And I think you had better put that cloak away.

Freda.  I’d rather have one more try, my lady.

Lady Cheshire. [Sitting doom at her writing-table] Very well.

     Freda goes out into her workroom, as Jackson comes in from the
     corridor.

Jackson.  Excuse me, my lady.  There’s a young woman from the village, says you wanted to see her.

Lady Cheshire.  Rose Taylor?  Ask her to come in.  Oh! and Jackson the car for the meet please at half-past ten.

Jackson having bowed and withdrawn, lady Cheshire rises with worked signs of nervousness, which she has only just suppressed, when Rose Taylor, a stolid country girl, comes in and stands waiting by the door.

Lady Cheshire.  Well, Rose.  Do come in!
     [Rose advances perhaps a couple of steps.]