[In a low voice.] Look here! you would swear to me you’d never use against her anything that might arise during our meeting—I mean anything that your cursed jealousy could twist into harm?
Olive.
Solemnly. If she proclaimed herself openly in this room to be your—[with a stamp of the foot he rises]—she should go scot-free, for me. If she behaved as an innocent woman, she might walk over me in the future, trample on me; I’d be a slave to her. Only satisfy me!
[He goes to the writing-table, and rapidly scribbles a note. She watches him with eager eyes. When he has finished writing, he takes an envelope, rises, comes to Olive, and holds the note up before her.
John.
“Come to the cottage.—J. A.”
[She inclines her head. He touches the bell-press. Then he encloses the note in the envelope, which he fastens, and hands to Olive.
Olive.
Why?
John.