Bea. What is the matter with him?
Sir P. (R. of chair, L.C.) Something occult—that’s why I call it serious. There is nothing so serious as the unknown. (Normantower turns up R. and looks out at window)
Bea. Something you can’t make out? It must be occult indeed.
Sir P. (goes to front of sofa L.C.) But something I hope to make out before I go.
Bea. Then you propose to stay here? (disconcerted)
Sir P. With your permission—for to-night, at any rate.
Bea. I’ll have a room prepared for you at once. (about to go L.U.E., returns C. and works to R.C.)
Sir P. Don’t trouble. The orders are already given. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing my own quarters. They open on the terrace, so I can take the air in the morning without disturbing the household. (sits on sofa)
Re-enter C. from. R., Kate Derwent from grounds, Tom and Mildred running up with her to the doors C. Normantower goes slowly down to R. corner.