Mrs. Wharton.
Wouldn’t you prefer to go home, darling?
Sylvia.
No, I’d like to stay here if you don’t mind. I’d like to see John.
Mrs. Wharton.
Very well. I shan’t be very long.
[She goes out. The church bell gives a hurried tinkle and then stops. Sylvia walks up and down the room and stands still in front of a photograph of John in his uniform. She takes it up and looks at it. Then putting it down she clasps her hands and raises her eyes. She is seen to be praying. She hears a sound in the garden, inclines her head to listen, and goes to the window. She hesitates a moment and then braces herself to a decision. She calls.
Sylvia.
John!
[He comes, stops for a moment on the threshold, and then walks forward casually.