Directly, directly. There will be only to-morrow to settle everything, to make all arrangements. [Pacing up and down.] The servants at Lennox Gardens will be discharged, the house let furnished—perhaps it would be better to let Marlers sell the furniture, and have done with it. [Pausing in his walk.] I am returning to Lennox Gardens now, at once; will you come back with me, or dine with your people and let me fetch you later on? [She sits, staring at him, without speaking.] Theo, please let me know your wishes.
Theophila.
[Quietly.] No, no—you mustn’t do this.
Fraser.
Why not?
Theophila.
Why, don’t you see? We’ve got to sit tight here in town; we’ve got to do it, to win back my good name. [Fraser agitatedly resumes his walk.] Of course, we shall be asked nowhere, but we must be seen about together, you and I, wherever it’s possible for us to squeeze ourselves. [Rapidly and excitedly.] There’s the Opera; we can subscribe for a box on the ground tier—the stalls can’t help picking you out there. And there we must sit, laughing and talking, Alec, and convince people that we’re a happy couple and that you believe in me implicitly. And when the Season’s done with, then Locheen; we must have Locheen crowded with the best we can lay hands on—many that wouldn’t touch me with the tongs at this moment will be glad of a cheap week or two at Locheen in the autumn. And we must let ’em all see that I’m a rattling good indoor, as well as outdoor, wife, and that you’re frightfully devoted to me, and that what she charged me with—well, simply couldn’t have been. And afterwards they’ll go back to town and chatter, and in the end the thing will blow over, and—and——Oh, but to go abroad now! [Going to him, and slipping her arm through his.] Alec, dear old boy, how could you dream of cutting and running now?
[He withdraws his arm.]
Fraser.
Theophila, I—I am sorry to distress you—if it does distress you, but I—I’ve quite made up my mind. [Passionately.] We are going abroad.