[In the intensity of his feeling he has lost sight of her face, alive with a sort of agony of doubt, whether to plead with him further, or what to do.  Then, with a swift glance at her wristwatch, she falls back on the sofa and closes her eyes.]

It’ll give me a power of enjoyment seein’ me chimneys go up in front of their windies.  That was a bonnie thought—­that last bid o’ mine.  He’d got that roused up, I believe, he, never would a’ stopped. [Looking at her] I forgot your head.  Well, well, ye’ll be best tryin’ quiet. [The gong sounds.] Shall we send ye something in from dinner?

Chloe.  No; I’ll try to sleep.  Please tell them I don’t want to be disturbed.

Hornblower.  All right.  I’ll just answer this note.

     [He sits down at her writing-table.]

     [Chloe starts up from the sofa feverishly, looking at her
     watch, at the window, at her watch; then softly crosses to the
     window and opens it.]

Hornblower. [Finishing] Listen! [He turns round towards the sofa] Hallo!  Where are ye?

Chloe. [At the window] It’s so hot.

Hornblower.  Here’s what I’ve said: 

“Madam,—­You can tell me nothing of my daughter-in-law which can affect the happiness of my family.  I regard your note as an impertinence, and I shall not be with you at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning.

     “Yours truly——­”

Chloe. [With a suffering movement of her head] Oh!—­Well!—­[The gong is touched a second time.]

Hornblower. [Crossing to the door] Lie ye down, and get a sleep.  I’ll tell them not to disturb ye; and I hope ye’ll be all right to-morrow.  Good-night, Chloe.

Chloe.  Good-night. [He goes out.]

[After a feverish turn or two, Chloe returns to the open window and waits there, half screened by the curtains.  The door is opened inch by inch, and ANNA’S head peers round.  Seeing where Chloe is, she slips in and passes behind the screen, Left.  Suddenly Chloe backs in from the window.]

Chloe. [In a low voice] Come in.

     [She darts to the door and locks it.]

     [Dawker has come in through the window and stands regarding her
     with a half smile.]

Dawker.  Well, young woman, what do you want of me?

[In the presence of this man of her own class, there comes a distinct change in Chloe’s voice and manner; a sort of frank commonness, adapted to the man she is dealing with, but she keeps her voice low.]

Chloe.  You’re making a mistake, you know.

Dawker. [With a broad grin] No.  I’ve got a memory for faces.

Chloe.  I say you are.

Dawker. [Turning to go] If that’s all, you needn’t have troubled me to come.