Lady C. You have some private matter to discuss. Shall we go? (rises)
Sir G. We will go, if you will excuse us. (rises)
Lady C. Certainly.
Sir G. (to Philip) Come with me. (Exit, L.)
Philip. In case I don’t see you again, Miss Dalrymple, good night. (bows)
Rose. Good evening, Mr. Graham. (she curtseys ceremoniously)
Lady C. (aside) What can they have to talk about—those two? (reflectively)
Philip comes, L., and stands before Lady Carlyon.
Philip. Good night. (puts out his hand)
Lady C. (giving him her hand slowly, which he takes and drops) Good night. (exit Philip, quickly, L.) How glad he is to go! (drops down on seat again, L., leaning her head back, pressed between her hands—slight pause—Rose comes down)