TOLINE
_and embraces her._] My dear child!

OTTOLINE.

[_In rather a strained voice._] Sir Timothy Barradell is here, Dad.

SIR RANDLE.

I heard he had called.

LADY FILSON.

So sweet of him to treat us informally!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON.] He would like to see you and Dad for a minute or
two, mother----

LADY FILSON.

Charmed!

SIR RANDLE.

Delighted!

OTTOLINE.

Just to--just to bid you good-bye.

LADY FILSON.

Good-bye?

SIR RANDLE.

Good-bye?

OTTOLINE.

Yes; he's going away--abroad--for some months. [_With a motion of her
head towards the hall._] He's in the hall. May I----?

LADY FILSON.

[_Rising._] Er--do.

SIR RANDLE.

Do.

OTTOLINE.

[_Returning to the door and calling._] Sir Timothy----!

[_There is a brief pause, during which_ SIR RANDLE _and_
LADY FILSON _interrogate each other silently, and then_
SIR TIMOTHY BARRADELL _enters. He is a well-knit,
pleasant-looking Irishman of about forty, speaking with
a slight brogue._

LADY FILSON.

[_Advancing to greet him._] My dear Sir Timothy!

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_As they shake hands._] And how's my lady this morning? Are you well?

OTTOLINE.

[_At the door._] I'll leave you----

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_Turning to her hastily._] Ah--! [_Taking her hand._] I'm not to see
you again?

OTTOLINE.

[_Shaking her head._] No. [_Smiling._] We've said good-bye upstairs.
[_Withdrawing her hand._] _Que Dieu vous protege!_ Good luck to you!

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_Ruefully._] Luck! [_In an undertone._] I've never had anything else
till now; and now it's out entirely.

OTTOLINE.

[_Gently._] Shsssh----!

[_She goes into the hall and he stands watching her till
she disappears. Then he closes the door and faces_ LADY
FILSON _and_ SIR