BILL. Ye-es.
LADY CHESHIRE. You're not keeping anything from me, are you?
BILL. [Facing her] No. [He then turns very deliberately to the writing things, and takes up a pen] I must write these letters, please.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill, if there's any real trouble, you will tell me, won't you?
BILL. There's nothing whatever.
He suddenly gets up and walks about. LADY CHESHIRE, too, moves over to the fireplace, and after an uneasy look at him, turns to the fire. Then, as if trying to switch of his mood, she changes the subject abruptly.
LADY CHESHIRE. Isn't it a pity about young Dunning? I'm so sorry for Rose Taylor.
There is a silence. Stealthily under the staircase FREDA has
entered, and seeing only BILL, advances to speak to him.
BILL. [Suddenly] Oh! well,—you can't help these things in the country.
As he speaks, FREDA stops dead, perceiving that he is not alone;
BILL, too, catching sight of her, starts.