STEVE. ‘With me?’
AMY, icily, ‘This is useless; as I have already said, the game is up.’
STEVE, glancing in a mirror to make sure he is still the same person, ‘You look a nice girl but dash it all. Whom can you be taking me for? Tell me some more about myself.’
AMY. Please desist. I know everything, and in a way I am sorry for you. All these years you have kept the marriage a secret, for she is a horrid sort of woman, and now she has come back to blackmail you. That, however, is not my affair.’
STEVE, with unexpected power of irony, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’
AMY. ‘I do say it, Mr. Stephen Rollo. I shall keep your secret—’
STEVE. ‘Ought you?’
AMY. ‘—on one condition, and on one condition only, that you return me the letters.’
STEVE. ‘The letters?’
AMY. ‘The letters.’