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!”

More. [Moving out on to the terrace] Nice quiet night!

Steel.  This to the Cottage Hospital—­shall I say you will preside?

More.  No.

Steel writes; then looking up and seeing that more is no longer there, he goes to the window, looks to right and left, returns to the bureau, and is about to sit down again when a thought seems to strike him with consternation.  He goes again to the window.  Then snatching up his hat, he passes hurriedly out along the terrace.  As he vanishes, Katherine comes in from the hall.  After looking out on to the terrace she goes to the bay window; stands there listening; then comes restlessly back into the room.  Olive, creeping quietly from behind the curtain, clasps her round the waist.

Katherine.  O my darling!  How you startled me!  What are you doing down here, you wicked little sinner!

Olive.  I explained all that to Daddy.  We needn’t go into it again, need we?