Cynthia. Phillimore—no; never. [Running to the window.] No; never, never, Jack.
John. [Opening the window and calling out.] It's all right, Judge. You needn't wait.
There is a pause. John leaves the window and bursts into laughter. He moves toward the door and closes it. Cynthia looks dazed.
Cynthia. Jack! [John laughs.] Yes, but I'm here, Jack.
John. Why not?
Cynthia. You'll have to take me round to the Holland House!
John. Of course, I will! But, I say, Cynthia, there's no hurry.
Cynthia. Why, I—I—can't stay here.
John. No, of course you can't stay here. But you can have a bite, though. [Cynthia shakes her head. John places the small chair, which was upset, next to the table, and the armchair close by.] Oh, I insist. Just look at yourself—you're as pale as a sheet and—here, here. Sit right down. I insist! By George, you must do it! [Cynthia moves to the chair drawn up to the table, and sits down.
Cynthia. [Faintly.] I am hungry.