ssly prejudiced.

[He turns to go.]

JILL. [Just as he is vanishing--softly] Enemy?

ROLF. [Turning] Yes, enemy.

JILL. Before the battle--let's shake hands.

[They move from the lintels and grasp each other's hands in the
centre of the French window.]

CURTAIN

ACT II

SCENE I

A billiard room in a provincial hotel, where things are bought
and sold. The scene is set well forward, and is not very
broad; it represents the auctioneer's end of the room, having,
rather to stage Left, a narrow table with two chairs facing the
audience, where the auctioneer will sit and stand. The table,
which is set forward to the footlights, is littered with
green-covered particulars of sale. The audience are in effect
public and bidders. There is a door on the Left, level with the
table. Along the back wall, behind the table, are two raised
benches with two steps up to them, such as billiard rooms often
have, divided by a door in the middle of a wall, which is
panelled in oak. Late September sunlight is coming from a
skylight (not visible) on to these seats. The stage is empty
when the curtain goes up, but DAWKERS, and MRS. HILLCRIST are
just entering through the door at the back.

DAWKER. Be out of their way here, ma'am. See old Hornblower with
Chearlie?

[He points down to the audience.]

MRS. H. It begins at three, doesn't it?

DAWKER. They won't be over-punctual; there's only the Centry
selling. There's young Mrs. Hornblower with the other boy--
[Pointing] over at the entrance. I've got that chap I told you of
down from town.

MRS. H. Ah! make sure quite of her, Dawker. Any mistake would be
fatal.

DAWKER. [Nodding] That's right, ma'am. Lot of peopled--always
spare time to watch an auction--ever remark that? The Duke's
agent's here; shouldn't be surprised if he chipped in.

MRS. H. Where did you leave my husband?

DAWKER. With Miss Jill, in the courtyard. He's coming to you. In
case I miss him; tell him when I reach his limit to blow his nose if
he wants me to go on; when he blows it a second time, I'll stop for
good. Hope we shan't get to that. Old Hornblower doesn't throw his
money away.

MRS. H. What limit did you settle?

DAWKER. Six thousand!

MRS. H. That's a fearful price. Well, good luck to you, Dawker!

DAWKER. Good luck, ma'am.