While he is speaking, a little figure has flown along the terrace outside, in the direction of the music, but has stopped at the sound of his voice, and stands in the open window, listening—­a dark-haired, dark-eyed child, in a blue dressing-gown caught up in her hand.  The street musicians, having reached the end of a tune, are silent.

     In the intensity of mores feeling, a wine-glass, gripped too
     strongly, breaks and falls in pieces onto a finger-bowl.  The
     child starts forward into the room.

More.  Olive!

Olive.  Who were you speaking to, Daddy?

More. [Staring at her] The wind, sweetheart!

Olive.  There isn’t any!

More.  What blew you down, then?

Olive. [Mysteriously] The music.  Did the wind break the wine-glass, or did it come in two in your hand?

More.  Now my sprite!  Upstairs again, before Nurse catches you. 
Fly!  Fly!

Olive.  Oh! no, Daddy! [With confidential fervour] It feels like things to-night!

More.  You’re right there!

Olive. [Pulling him down to her, and whispering] I must get back again in secret.  H’sh!

     She suddenly runs and wraps herself into one of the curtains of
     the bay window.  A young man enters, with a note in his hand.

More.  Hello, Steel!

     [The street musicians have again begun to play.]

Steel.  From Sir John—­by special messenger from the War Office.

More. [Reading the note] “The ball is opened.”

He stands brooding over the note, and steel looks at him anxiously.  He is a dark, sallow, thin-faced young man, with the eyes of one who can attach himself to people, and suffer with them.

Steel.  I’m glad it’s begun, sir.  It would have been an awful pity to have made that speech.

More.  You too, Steel!

Steel.  I mean, if it’s actually started——­

More. [Tearing tie note across] Yes.  Keep that to yourself.

Steel.  Do you want me any more?

     More takes from his breast pocket some papers, and pitches them
     down on the bureau.

More.  Answer these.

Steel. [Going to the bureau] Fetherby was simply sickening. [He begins to write.  Struggle has begun again in more] Not the faintest recognition that there are two sides to it.

     More gives him a quick look, goes quietly to the dining-table
     and picks up his sheaf of notes.  Hiding them with his sleeve,
     he goes back to the window, where he again stands hesitating.

Steel.  Chief gem:  [Imitating] “We must show Impudence at last that Dignity is not asleep!”