Sylvia's voice is then heard crying: "Father, please don't!" [A succession of dull thuds as of battering hoofs.] "Oh, do take care!"
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Lays down her work, rises, goes to the sliding-doors, and knocks.] Anthony! Don't go on like that, for goodness' sake! You must try and control yourself! Just think, if the servants heard you! [Jessie, a neat parlour-maid in morning costume, pink print, cap, and apron, enters from hall; Mrs. Futvoye hurriedly leaves the sofa by the sliding-doors, goes back to her chair, and takes up her work with an elaborate assumption of perfect calm.] What is it, Jessie? I haven't rung.
Jessie.
I know, madam. But there's such a noise in the master's study I was afraid something had happened.
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Severely.] Then it was very foolish of you. What should have happened? If you heard anything, it probably came from next door.
[Sounds of stamping from within sliding-doors, and then a noise as if some piece of furniture had been overturned.
Jessie.
There it is again, madam! And it does seem to come from the study!