at the present moment say. Good-by.

MARGARET. Clement ...! (Tries to restrain him.)

CLEMENT. If you please ... [Exit.]

MARGARET (alone). Clement ...! What does this mean! He's leaving me?
Oh, what shall I do?--Clement!--Can he mean that all is over ...?
No--it's impossible! Clement! I must follow him ... (Looks about for
her hat. The bell rings.) Ah ...he's coming back! He was only trying to
frighten me ... Oh, my Clement! (Goes toward door. Enter GILBERT.)

GILBERT (to maid, who has opened door for him). I told you I was sure
she was at home. Good morning, Margaret.

MARGARET (taken aback). You ...?

GILBERT. Yes, I--Amandus Gilbert.

MARGARET. I ... I'm so surprised ...

GILBERT. That is evident. But there's no reason why you should be. I am
only passing through--I'm on my way to Italy. And really I've come to
see you just for the purpose of bringing you a copy of my latest work
in remembrance of our old friendship. (Hands her the book. As she does
not take it at once, he lays it on the table.)

MARGARET. You're very kind ... thank you.

GILBERT. Oh, not at all. You have a certain right to this book. So this
is where you live ...

MARGARET. Yes. But ...

GILBERT. Oh, it's only temporary, I know. For furnished rooms they
aren't bad. To be sure, these family portraits on the walls would drive
me to distraction.

MARGARET. My landlady is the widow of a general.

GILBERT. Oh, you needn't apologize.

MARGARET. Apologize ...? I wasn't thinking of it.

GILBERT. It's very queer, when one comes to think ...

MARGARET. To think of what?

GILBERT. Why shouldn't I say it? Of the little room in the Steinsdorfer
Strasse, with the balcony looking out on the Isar. Do you remember it,
Margaret?

MARGARET. Do you think you'd better call me Margaret ... now?

GILBERT. As you please ... (Pause. Suddenly.) You know really you
behaved very badly ...

MARGARET. What?

GILBERT. Or do you prefer that I should speak in paraphrases?
Unfortunately I can't find any other expression for your conduct. And
it was all so unnecessary--it would have been just as well to be honest
with me. There was nothing to be gained by stealing away from Munich in
the dead of night.

MARGARET. It wasn't the dead of night--I left Munich by the express at
8.30 A. M., in bright sunshine.

GILBERT. Well, anyhow, you might just as well have said good-by,
mightn't you? (Sits.)

MARGARET. The Baron may