The figure of OLIVE flies past the window, out on the terrace.
KATHERINE turns, as if to follow her.
SHELDER. Highlanders!
[He rises. KATHERINE goes quickly out on to the terrace. One by one they all follow to the window. One by one go out on to the terrace, till MORE is left alone. He turns to the bay window. The music is swelling, coming nearer. MORE leaves the window—his face distorted by the strafe of his emotions. He paces the room, taking, in some sort, the rhythm of the march.]
[Slowly the music dies away in the distance to a drum-tap and the
tramp of a company. MORE stops at the table, covering his eyes
with his hands.]
[The DEPUTATION troop back across the terrace, and come in at the
French windows. Their faces and manners have quite changed.
KATHERINE follows them as far as the window.]
HOME. [In a strange, almost threatening voice] It won't do, Mr.
More. Give us your word, to hold your peace!
SHELDER. Come! More.
WACE. Yes, indeed—indeed!
BANNING. We must have it.
MORE. [Without lifting his head] I—I——