(She closes the door softly. Randolph looks after her puzzled, then walks up and down alone very much irritated. He takes out his check book, glancing through the stubs cynically. Then he throws it back into the table drawer. Finally he picks up the phone, obviously switching it.)
Randolph
Is that you, Sabine? You’ve found what you want? You won’t need me any more? Well, stick close to it. I just wished to see. Good night. (He switches it off again and impatiently waits.) Is that you, Brooks? Tell Toder to have the car ready. I may need it later. No, the closed car—it’s chilly. Oh, by the way, (trying to be casual), in case I should be out, Mr. Sabine is expecting Mrs. Sabine. Let her come right up to the library. What’s that? Better see who it is. (Showing displeasure.) I’ll tell Mr. Sabine myself. Yes; if you’re sure it’s Mrs. Sabine, better let her come up here. That’ll be all for to-night.
(He hangs up the receiver, walks up and down again and finally opens the hall door. There is quite a pause as he stands, smoking a cigarette, awaiting her. Finally, Mrs. Sabine enters, leaving the door open.
She is in her late twenties, of rather restless beauty, which under her shifting expression becomes hard and cynical. She apparently has little resistance and suggests a love of excitement and sensation. Her manner is flighty though worldly. She is handsomely dressed, with beautiful furs upon her sensuous shoulders.)
Randolph
(Abruptly)
What the devil does this mean?
Mrs. Sabine
We’re alone?