[He takes her with both hands by the waist, she puts her hands against his shoulders to push him of—and suddenly they are whirling. As they whirl, they bob together once or twice, and kiss. Then, with a warning motion towards the door, she wrenches herself free, and stops beside the picture, trying desperately to appear demure. WELLWYN and ANN have entered. The face has vanished.]
FERRAND. [Pointing to the picture.] One does not comprehend all this, Monsieur, without well studying. I was in train to interpret for Ma'moiselle the chiaroscuro.
WELLWYN. [With a queer look.] Don't take it too seriously, Ferrand.
FERRAND. It is a masterpiece.
WELLWYN. My daughter's just spoken to a friend, Professor Calway. He'd like to meet you. Could you come back a little later?
FERRAND. Certainly, Ma'moiselle. That will be an opening for me, I trust. [He goes to the street door.]
ANN. [Paying no attention to him.] Mrs. Megan, will you too come back in half an hour?
FERRAND. 'Tres bien, Ma'moiselle'! I will see that she does. We will take a little promenade together. That will do us good.
[He motions towards the door; MRS. MEGAN, all eyes, follows him out.]
ANN. Oh! Daddy, they are rotters. Couldn't you see they were having the most high jinks?