Bea. My rival! Yes! I mean, that Philip is her lover.
Nor. Mrs. Selwyn!
Bea. Now I have told you my secret, and I leave it to your honour to respect it.
Nor. You accuse Miss Derwent—you accuse your husband——
Bea. Yes, I accuse them both. You know what happened this morning; Miss Derwent was going away, and my husband insisted on her remaining; but you don’t know what happened this afternoon. So mad is Philip’s infatuation that he is even making a new will, bequeathing her every shilling he possesses, leaving me an outcast and a beggar.
Sir Peter appears, L.D.—he observes them talking and goes into conservatory, L.C.
Nor. Surely you are mistaken. (backing a step)
Bea. I am not mistaken! Sir Peter knows of this will. He will tell you what I say is the truth. But not a word about my secret? I leave that to your honour. (crosses and goes up C. to L.C.)
Nor. (aside) I wish she wouldn’t leave my honour legacies. (turns up to opening, R.C.)
Sir Peter comes out from conservatory, L.C., intercepting Beatrice as she goes to door, L.