Kate. (rises) I will die where heaven wills it, but I shall at least have the consciousness that I have done something to repair my father’s wrong.
Sir P. Rubbish—romantic rubbish.
Kate. Promise me that you will keep this secret—that you will say nothing to my brother—promise me, Sir Peter.
Sir P. I shall promise nothing. I shall use my own discretion, as I always do. (turns off, L.C.)
Kate. Sir Peter! (following him)
Sir P. You are a foolish, obstinate, absurd—(turns suddenly and takes both her hands)—good, generous, true-hearted girl, and I am your friend always! Look here! I’m old enough to be your father—(is about to kiss her. Re-enter Price, R.D.; aside) Damn that man! (goes L., Price sounds gong, R., below fire-place)
Music in orchestra till act drop. Re-enter Tom and Mildred, running in from grounds, followed by Beatrice and Lord Normantower leisurely, C. from R.
Tom. (throwing his hat on R. table) Lunch, at last! Aren’t I ready for it? (runs off, R.D.)
Mil. (throwing hers on the table) Tom! Wait for me. (runs off R.D.)