CRAVEN. Ah, Jo, here you are. Now, Paramore, tell 'em the news.
PARAMORE. Mrs. Tranfield—Cuthbertson—allow me to introduce you to my future wife.
CUTHBERTSON (coming forward to shake hands with Paramore). My heartiest congratulations! (Paramore goes to shake hands with Grace.) Miss Craven: you will accept Grace's congratulations as well as mine, I hope.
CRAVEN. She will, Jo. (In a tone of command.) Now, Julia. (Julia slowly rises.)
CUTHBERTSON. Now, Grace. (He conducts her to Julia's right; then posts himself on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, watching them. The Colonel keeps guard on the other side.)
GRACE (speaking in a low voice to Julia alone). So you have shewn him that you can do without him! Now I take back everything I said. Will you shake hands with me? (Julia gives her hand painfully, with her face averted.) They think this a happy ending, Julia—these men—our lords and masters! (The two stand silent, hand in hand.)
SYLVIA (leaning back across the couch, aside to Charteris). Has she really chucked you? (He nods assent. She looks at him dubiously, and adds) I expect you chucked her.
CUTHBERTSON. And now, Paramore, mind you don't stand any chaff from Charteris about this. He's in the same predicament himself. He's engaged to Grace.
JULIA (dropping Grace's hand, and speaking with breathless anguish, but not violently). Again!
CHARTERIS (rising hastily). Don't be alarmed. It's all off.