[Approaching Sylvia.] Good-night, Ventimore. Miss Sylvia—[offering his arm]—I am to have the privilege of taking care of you.
Sylvia.
[Declining his arm.] Thank you, Mr. Pringle,—but I can quite well take care of myself. [She turns to Horace.] Horace, I want to say just this before I go—I will trust you still,—in spite of everything and everybody!
Horace.
[Putting his arm round her.] You little brick! And you won't have to go on trusting me much longer!
Professor Futvoye.
[Interposing and separating them.] That she will not, sir! Let her go! [Horace releases Sylvia, who goes up towards central arch, Horace attempting to follow her, when he is stopped by the Professor.] Stay where you are!
[Sylvia and Pringle pass through to the outer hall.
Horace.