his heels about the Campo till I let him know I am alone.

GERTRUDE. Will he obey you?

AGNES. A week ago he was curious to see the sort of animal I am. If he
holds off now, I'll hit upon some other plan. I will come to close
quarters with him, if only for five minutes.

GERTRUDE. Good-bye. [They embrace, then walk together to the door.] You
still refuse my address?

AGNES. You bat! Didn't you see me make a note of it?

GERTRUDE. You!

AGNES. [Her hand on her heart.] Here.

GERTRUDE. [Gratefully.] Ah! [She goes out.]

AGNES. [At the open door.] Gertrude!

GERTRUDE. [Outside.] Yes?

AGNES. [In a low voice.] Remember, in my thoughts I pace that
lonely little room of yours with you. [As if to stop GERTRUDE from
re-entering.] Hush! No, no. [She closes the door sharply. NELLA
appears.]

AGNES. [Pointing to the box on the table.] Portez ce carton dans ma
chambre.

NELLA. [Trying to peep into the box as she carries it.] Signora, se
Ella si mettesse questo magnifico abito! Oh! Quanto sarebbe piu bella!
(Signora, if you were to wear this magnificent dress, oh how much more
beautiful you would be!)

AGNES. Sssh! Sssh! [NELLA goes out. FORTUNE enters.] Eh, bien?

[FORTUNE glances over his shoulder. The DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS enters;
the wreck of a very handsome man, with delicate features, a polished
manner, and a smooth, weary voice. He limps, walking with the aid of a
cane. FORTUNE retires.]

AGNES. Duke of St. Olpherts?

ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing.] Mrs. Ebbsmith?

AGNES. Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out-of-the-way
proceeding of mine. He doesn't know I have asked you to call on me
today.

ST. OLPHERTS. So I conclude. It gives our meeting a pleasant air of
adventure.

AGNES. I shall tell him directly he returns.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Gallantly.] And destroy a cherished secret.

AGNES. You are an invalid. [Motioning him to be seated.] Pray don't
stand. [Sitting.] Your Grace is a man who takes life lightly. It will
relieve you to hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any business
we have together.

ST. OLPHERTS. I believe I haven't the reputation of being a sentimental
man. [Seating himself.] You send for me, Mrs. Ebbsmith--

AGNES. To tell you I have come to regard the suggestion you were good
enough to make a week ago--

ST. OLPHERTS. Suggestion?

AGNES. Shakespeare, the musical glasses, you know--

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, yes. Ha! Ha!

AGNES. I've come to think it a reasonable one. At the mom