Lamb. Yes. I’ll see you to-morrow morning. About ten o’clock.
Sigsby. I shall be here. (He exchanges a “good afternoon” with the others.)
(They go out. Sigsby crosses and goes into the other room.)
Annys. (She has let fall the flowers on the table. She crosses to where Geoffrey still stands by the desk, his back towards her. She stretches out her hand, touches him. He does not move.) Geoffrey!
(But still he takes no notice.)
I am so sorry. We must talk it over quietly—at home.
Geoffrey. (He turns.) Home! I have no home. I have neither children nor wife. I keep a political opponent.
(Annys starts back with a cry. He crosses in front of her and seats himself at the table. The flowers are lying there; he throws them into the waste-paper basket.)
Annys. (She puts on her cloak, moves towards the door. Half-way she pauses, makes a movement towards him. But he will not see. Then a hard look comes into her eyes, and without another word she goes out, leaving the door open.)
(Sigsby is heard moving in the other room.)