[In a softer tone.] It certainly seems to me that Mr. Mackworth's undertaking—as far as it goes——
Ottoline.
[With a queer laugh.] Ha, ha, ha! As far as it goes, mother! [Rising, thoughtfully.] Doesn't it go a little too far? [Contracting her brows.] It disposes of me as if I were of no more account than a sawdust doll! [To Philip.] Ah, traitor! [In a low voice.] Vos promesses à une femme sont sans valeur!
Philip.
[Taking her hands reassuringly.] No, no——!
Ottoline.
[Withdrawing her hands.] Zut! [Moving slowly towards the glazed door.] You have acquitted yourself bravely, mon cher Monsieur Philippe! [Shrugging her shoulders.] Say good-bye and let me turn you out in disgrace.
Philip.
[Deprecatingly.] Ha, ha, ha! [Going to Lady Filson.] Good-bye, Lady Filson. [She rises and shakes hands with him.] Have I bought my right of entrée? I may ring your bell at discreet intervals till the end of the season?
Lady Filson.