Kent comes in, an open letter in his hand.
Kent. This note, sir. Had I better go round myself and see him?
Trebell. [As he takes the note.] Cantelupe's come.
Kent. [Glancing at the telephone.] Oh, has he!
Trebell. [As he reads.] Yes I think you had.
Kent. Evans was very serious.
He goes back into his room. Amy moves swiftly to where Trebell is standing and whispers.
Amy. Won't you tell me whom to go to?
Trebell. No.
Amy. Oh, really ... what unpractical sentimental children you men are! You and your consciences ... you and your laws. You drive us to distraction and sometimes to death by your stupidities. Poor women—!