AGNES. Yes.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Sitting, breaking into a laugh.] Ha, ha! he, he, he! Sir
Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve will be so angry. Such a devil of a journey
for nothing! Ho! [Coughing.] Ho, ho, ho!

AGNES. This was to be your grand coup.

ST. OLPHERTS. I admit it--I have been keeping this in reserve.

AGNES. I see. A further term of cat-and-dog life for Lucas and this
lady--but it would have served to dispose of me, you fondly imagined.
I see.

ST. OLPHERTS. I knew your hold on him was weakening. [She looks at
him.] You knew it too. [She looks away.] He was beginning to find out
that a dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to live with. I
repeat, you're a dooced clever woman, my dear. [She rises, with an
impatient shake of her body, and walks past him, he following her with
his eyes.] And a handsome one, into the bargain.

AGNES. Tsch!

ST. OLPHERTS. Tell me, when did you make up your mind to transform
yourself?

AGNES. Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon; after what you
said--

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh--!

AGNES. [With a little shiver.] An impulse.

ST. OLPHERTS. Impulse doesn't account for the possession of those
gorgeous trappings.

AGNES. These rags? A surprise gift from Lucas, today.

ST. OLPHERTS. Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring about my
own defeat. [Laughing softly.] Ho, ho, ho! How disgusted the Cleeve
family will be! Ha, ha! [Testily.] Come, why don't you smile--laugh?
You can afford to do so! Show your pretty white teeth! Laugh!

AGNES. [Hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha! Ha!

ST. OLPHERTS. That's better! [Pushing the cigarette-box towards him,
she takes a cigarette and places it between her lips. He also takes a
cigarette gaily. They smoke--she standing, with an elbow resting upon
the top of the stove, looking down upon him.]

ST. OLPHERTS. [As he lights his cigarette.] This isn't explosive, I
hope? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with glycerine--eh? [Eyeing her
wonderingly and admiringly.] By jove! Which is you--the shabby,
shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon or--[kissing the
tips of his fingers to her]--or that?

AGNES. This--this. [Seating herself, slowly and thoughtfully, facing
the stove, her back turned to him.] My sex has found me out.

ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! tsch! [Between his teeth.] Damn it, for your sake I
almost wish Lucas was a different sort of feller!

AGNES. [Partly to herself, with intensity.] Nothing matters now--not
even that. He's mine. He woul