Gray. I want proof.
Margaret. I get frightened. I’m made so. Always I’ve been afraid—of Hilary—of everyone—of life. But now—you—you’re angry, you’re so angry, you’re very angry with me—and I— [She goes steadily across the room to him. He makes no movement] I’m not afraid. [She puts up her hands, and drawing him down to her kisses him on the mouth.] Is that proof?
Gray. [Quietly] Proof enough. Come.
He takes the cloak and throws it round her. They go out together. As Sydney, forgotten, stands looking after them, Bassett enters with the tea-tray. She puts it down on the table and turns up the lights.
Bassett. Is the gentleman staying to tea, miss?
Sydney. [Correcting her] Mr. Fairfield. It’s my father, Bassett.
Bassett. We thought so, miss?
Sydney. [Smiling faintly] Did you, Bassett?
Bassett. He’s got your way, miss! Quick-like! [She opens the drawing-room door] Tea’s ready, ma’am. [Outside the motor drives away.]
Miss Fairfield. [Entering with Hilary] Tea’s very late. [Bassett goes out.]