CHLOE, in a tea-gown, is standing by the forward end of the sofa, very still, and very pale. Her lips are parted, and her large eyes stare straight before them as if seeing ghosts: The door is opened noiselessly and a WOMAN'S face is seen. It peers at CHLOE, vanishes, and the door is closed. CHLOE raises her hands, covers her eyes with them, drops them with a quick gesture, and looks round her. A knock. With a swift movement she slides on to the sofa, and lies prostrate, with eyes closed.
CHLOE. [Feebly] Come in!
[Her Maid enters; a trim, contained figure of uncertain years, in a black dress, with the face which was peering in.]
Yes, Anna?
ANNA. Aren't you going in to dinner, ma'am?
CHLOE. [With closed eyes] No.
ANNA. Will you take anything here, ma'am?
CHLOE. I'd like a biscuit and a glass of champagne.
[The MAID, who is standing between sofa and door, smiles.
CHLOE, with a swift look, catches the smile.]
Why do you smile?