ts her down. She stands there smiling. The face at the
window darkens.]
FERRAND. La Valse!
[He takes her with both hands by the waist, she puts her hands
against his shoulders to push him of--and suddenly they are
whirling. As they whirl, they bob together once or twice, and
kiss. Then, with a warning motion towards the door, she
wrenches herself free, and stops beside the picture, trying
desperately to appear demure. WELLWYN and ANN have entered.
The face has vanished.]
FERRAND. [Pointing to the picture.] One does not comprehend all
this, Monsieur, without well studying. I was in train to interpret
for Ma'moiselle the chiaroscuro.
WELLWYN. [With a queer look.] Don't take it too seriously,
Ferrand.
FERRAND. It is a masterpiece.
WELLWYN. My daughter's just spoken to a friend, Professor Calway.
He'd like to meet you. Could you come back a little later?
FERRAND. Certainly, Ma'moiselle. That will be an opening for me, I
trust. [He goes to the street door.]
ANN. [Paying no attention to him.] Mrs. Megan, will you too come
back in half an hour?
FERRAND. 'Tres bien, Ma'moiselle'! I will see that she does. We
will take a little promenade together. That will do us good.
[He motions towards the door; MRS. MEGAN, all eyes, follows him
out.]
ANN. Oh! Daddy, they are rotters. Couldn't you see they were
having the most high jinks?
WELLWYN. [At his picture.] I seemed to have noticed something.
ANN. [Preparing for tea.] They were kissing.
WELLWYN. Tt! Tt!
ANN. They're hopeless, all three--especially her. Wish I hadn't
given her my clothes now.
WELLWYN. [Absorbed.] Something of wild-savage.
ANN. Thank goodness it's the Vicar's business to see that married
people live together in his parish.
WELLWYN. Oh! [Dubiously.] The Megans are Roman Catholic-Atheists,
Ann.
ANN. [With heat.] Then they're all the more bound. [WELLWYN gives
a sudden and alarmed whistle.]
ANN. What's the matter?
WELLWYN. Didn't you say you spoke to Sir Thomas, too. Suppose he
comes in while the Professor's here. They're cat and dog.
ANN. [Blankly.] Oh! [As WELLWYN strikes a match.] The samovar is
lighted. [Taking up the nearly empty decanter of rum and going to
the cupboard.] It's all right. He won't.
WELLWYN. We'll hope not.
[He turns back to his picture.]
ANN. [At the cupboard.] Daddy!
WELLWYN. Hi!
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