ove my son, but I know him--I know all his kind of man. I've
lived with one for thirty years. I know the way their senses work.
When they want a thing they must have it, and then--they're sorry.

FREDA. [Sullenly] He's not sorry.

LADY CHESHIRE. Is his love big enough to carry you both over
everything?... You know it isn't.

FREDA. If I were a lady, you wouldn't talk like that.

LADY CHESHIRE. If you were a lady there'd be no trouble before
either of you. You'll make him hate you.

FREDA. I won't believe it. I could make him happy--out there.

LADY CHESHIRE. I don't want to be so odious as to say all the things
you must know. I only ask you to try and put yourself in our
position.

FREDA. Ah, yes!

LADY CHESHIRE. You ought to know me better than to think I'm purely
selfish.

FREDA. Would you like to put yourself in my position?

LADY CHESHIRE. What!

FREDA. Yes. Just like Rose.

LADY CHESHIRE. [In a low, horror-stricken voice] Oh!

There is a dead silence, then going swiftly up to her, she looks
straight into FREDA's eyes.

FREDA. [Meeting her gaze] Oh! Yes--it's the truth. [Then to Bill
who has come in from the workroom, she gasps out] I never meant to
tell.

BILL. Well, are you satisfied?

LADY CHESHIRE. [Below her breath] This is terrible!

BILL. The Governor had better know.

LADY CHESHIRE. Oh! no; not yet!

BILL. Waiting won't cure it!

The door from the corridor is thrown open; CHRISTINE and DOT run
in with their copies of the play in their hands; seeing that
something is wrong, they stand still. After a look at his
mother, BILL turns abruptly, and goes back into the workroom.
LADY CHESHIRE moves towards the window.

JOAN. [Following her sisters] The car's round. What's the matter?

DOT. Shut up!

SIR WILLIAM'S voice is heard from the corridor calling
"Dorothy!" As LADY CHESHIRE, passing her handkerchief over her
face, turns round, he enters. He is in full hunting dress:
well-weathered pink, buckskins, and mahogany tops.

SIR WILLIAM. Just off, my dear. [To his daughters, genially]
Rehearsin'? What! [He goes up to FREDA holding out his gloved right
hand] Button that for me, Freda, would you? It's a bit stiff!

FREDA buttons the glove: LADY CHESHIRE and the girls watching
in hypnotic silence.

SIR WILLIAM. Thank you! "Balmy as May"; scent ought to be
first-rate. [To LADY