RICHARD.
O, probably Robert. I am going out through the garden. I cannot see him now. Say I have gone to the post. Goodbye.
BEATRICE.
[With growing alarm.] It is Robert you do not wish to see?
RICHARD.
[Quietly.] For the moment, yes. This talk has upset me. Ask him to wait.
BEATRICE.
You will come back?
RICHARD.
Please God.
[He goes out quickly through the garden. Beatrice makes as if to follow him and then stops after a few paces. Brigid enters by the folding doors on the right and goes out on the left. The hall door is heard opening. A few seconds after Brigid enters with Robert Hand. Robert Hand is a middlesized, rather stout man between thirty and forty. He is cleanshaven, with mobile features. His hair and eyes are dark and his complexion sallow. His gait and speech are rather slow. He wears a dark blue morning suit and carries in his hand a large bunch of red roses wrapped in tissue paper.]
ROBERT.
[Coming towards her with outstretched hand which she takes.] My dearest coz! Brigid told me you were here. I had no notion. Did you send mother a telegram?
BEATRICE.
[Gazing at the roses.] No.
ROBERT.
[Following her gaze.] You are admiring my roses. I brought them to the mistress of the house. [Critically.] I am afraid they are not nice.
BRIGID.
O, they are lovely, sir. The mistress will be delighted with them.