John.  It’s inexplicable.  My brain was never clearer.

Comtesse.  You might have helped him, Sybil.

Sybil [quite sulkily].  I did.

Comtesse.  But I thought she was such an inspiration to you, Mr.
Shand.

John [going bravely to SYBIL’S side].  She slaved at it with me.

Comtesse.  Strange. [Wickedly becoming practical also] So now there is nothing to detain you.  Shall I send for a fly, Sybil?

Sybil [with a cry of the heart].  Auntie, do leave us.

Comtesse.  I can understand your impatience to be gone, Mr. Shand.

John [heavily].  I promised Maggie to wait till the 24th, and I’m a man of my word.

Maggie.  But I give you back your word, John.  You can go now.

[John looks at Sybil, and Sybil looks at John, and the impediment arrives in time to take a peep at both of them.]

Sybil [groping for the practical, to which we must all come in the end].  He must make satisfactory arrangements about you first.  I insist on that.

Maggie [with no more imagination than a hen].  Thank you, Lady Sybil, but I have made all my arrangements.

John [stung].  Maggie, that was my part.

Maggie.  You see, my brothers feel they can’t be away from their business any longer; and so, if it would be convenient to you, John, I could travel north with them by the night train on Wednesday.

Sybil.  I—­I——­The way you put things—–!

John.  This is just the 21st.

Maggie.  My things are all packed.  I think you’ll find the house in good order, Lady Sybil.  I have had the vacuum cleaners in.  I’ll give you the keys of the linen and the silver plate; I have them in that bag.  The carpet on the upper landing is a good deal frayed, but—–­

Sybil.  Please, I don’t want to hear any more.

Maggie.  The ceiling of the dining-room would be the better of a new lick of paint—–­

Sybil [stamping her foot, small fours].  Can’t you stop her?

John [soothingly].  She’s meaning well.  Maggie, I know it’s natural to you to value those things, because your outlook on life is bounded by them; but all this jars on me.

Maggie.  Does it?

John.  Why should you be so ready to go?

Maggie.  I promised not to stand in your way.

John [stoutly].  You needn’t be in such a hurry.  There are three days to run yet. [The French are so different from us that we shall probably never be able to understand why the Comtesse laughed aloud here.] It’s just a joke to the Comtesse.

Comtesse.  It seems to be no joke to you, Mr. Shand.  Sybil, my pet, are you to let him off?

Sybil [flashing].  Let him off?  If he wishes it.  Do you?