John [manfully].  I want it to go on. [Something seems to have caught in his throat:  perhaps it is the impediment trying a temporary home.] It’s the one wish of my heart.  If you come with me, Sybil, I’ll do all in a man’s power to make you never regret it.

[Triumph of the Vere de Veres.]

Maggie [bringing them back to earth with a dump].  And I can make my arrangements for Wednesday?

Sybil [seeking the COMTESSE’s protection].  No, you can’t.  Auntie, I am not going on with this.  I’m very sorry for you, John, but I see now—­I couldn’t face it—–­

[She can’t face anything at this moment except the sofa pillows.]

Comtesse [noticing john’s big sigh of relief].  So that is all right, Mr. Shand!

Maggie.  Don’t you love her any more, John?  Be practical.

Sybil [to the pillows].  At any rate I have tired of him.  Oh, best to tell the horrid truth.  I am ashamed of myself.  I have been crying my eyes out over it—­I thought I was such a different kind of woman.  But I am weary of him.  I think him—­oh, so dull.

John [his face lighting up].  Are you sure that is how you have come to think of me?

Sybil.  I’m sorry; [with all her soul] but yes—­yes—­yes.

John.  By God, it’s more than I deserve.

Comtesse.  Congratulations to you both.

[Sybil runs away; and in the fulness of time she married successfully in cloth of silver, which was afterwards turned into a bed-spread.]

Maggie.  You haven’t read my letter yet, John, have you?

John.  No.

Comtesse [imploringly].  May I know to what darling letter you refer?

Maggie.  It’s a letter I wrote to him before he left London.  I gave it to him closed, not to be opened until his time here was ended.

John [as his hand strays to his pocket].  Am I to read it now?

Maggie.  Not before her.  Please go away, Comtesse.

Comtesse.  Every word you say makes me more determined to remain.

Maggie.  It will hurt you, John. [Distressed] Don’t read it; tear it up.

John.  You make me very curious, Maggie.  And yet I don’t see what can be in it.

Comtesse.  But you feel a little nervous?  Give me the dagger.

Maggie [quickly].  No. [But the Comtesse has already got it.]

Comtesse.  May I? [She must have thought they said Yes, for she opens the letter.  She shares its contents with them.] ’Dearest John, It is at my request that the Comtesse is having Lady Sybil at the cottage at the same time as yourself.’

John.  What?

Comtesse.  Yes, she begged me to invite you together.

John.  But why?

Maggie.  I promised you not to behave as other wives would do.