Maggie.  Her cottage in the country would be the very place.  She invited John and me.

John.  Yes, but—­

Maggie [arguing].  And Mr. Venables is to be there.  Think of the impression you could make on him, seeing him daily for three weeks.

John.  There’s something in that.

Maggie.  Is it you, Comtesse?  I’m Maggie Shand.

Sybil.  You are not to tell her that—?

Maggie.  No. [To the Comtesse] Oh, I’m very well, never was better.  Yes, yes; you see I can’t, because my folk have never been in London before, and I must take them about and show them the sights.  But John could come to you alone; why not?

John [with proper pride].  If she’s not keen to have me, I won’t go.

Maggie.  She’s very keen.  Comtesse, I could come for a day by and by to see how you are getting on.  Yes—­yes—­certainly. [To John] She says she’ll be delighted.

John [thoughtfully].  You’re not doing this, Maggie, thinking that my being absent from Sybil for a few weeks can make any difference?  Of course it’s natural you should want us to keep apart, but—­

Maggie [grimly].  I’m founding no hope on keeping you apart, John.

John.  It’s what other wives would do.

Maggie.  I promised to be different.

John [his position as a strong man assured].  Then tell her I accept. [He wanders back into the dining-room.]

Sybil.  I think—­[she is not sure what she thinks]—­I think you are very wonderful.

Maggie.  Was that John calling to you?

Sybil.  Was it? [She is glad to join him in the dining-room.]

Maggie.  Comtesse, hold the line a minute. [She is alone, and she has nearly reached the end of her self-control.  She shakes emotionally and utters painful little cries; there is something she wants to do, and she is loth to do it.  But she does it.] Are you there, Comtesse?  There’s one other thing, dear Comtesse; I want you to invite Lady Sybil also; yes, for the whole time that John is there.  No, I’m not mad; as a great favour to me; yes, I have a very particular reason, but I won’t tell you what it is; oh, call me Scotchy as much as you like, but consent; do, do, do.  Thank you, thank you, good-bye.

[She has control of herself now, and is determined not to let it slip from her again.  When they reappear the stubborn one is writing a letter.]

John.  I thought I heard the telephone again.

Maggie [looking up from her labours].  It was the Comtesse; she says she’s to invite Lady Sybil to the cottage at the same time.

Sybil.  Me!

John.  To invite Sybil?  Then of course I won’t go, Maggie.

Maggie [wondering seemingly at these niceties].  What does it matter?  Is anything to be considered except the speech? [It has been admitted that she was a little devil.] And, with Sybil on the spot, John, to help you and inspire you, what a speech it will be!