ROOPE.

[_With an effort._] Er--Madame de Chaumie is in London, Phil.

PHILIP.

[_Sitting upright._] Madame de Chaumie! [_Disturbed._] Is _she_ coming?

ROOPE.

Y-y-yes.

PHILIP.

[_Rising._] Confound you, Robbie----!

ROOPE.

[_Hastily._] She has got rid of her house in Paris and rejoined her
people. She's with them in Ennismore Gardens.

PHILIP.

Thank you, I'm aware of it. One reads of Ottoline's movements in every
rag one picks up. [_Walking over to the right._] She's the biggest
_chasseuse_ of the crowd.

ROOPE.

I assure you she appears very much altered.

PHILIP.

What, can the leopard change his spots!

ROOPE.

Her family may still bang the big drum occasionally, and give it an
extra whack on _her_ account; but Ottoline herself----

PHILIP.

Faugh! [_Returning to_ ROOPE.] Why the devil have you done this?

ROOPE.

[_Feebly._] I confess, in the hope of bringing about a reconciliation.

PHILIP.

You--you good-natured old meddler. [_Quickly._] Does she expect to find
me here?

ROOPE.

No.

PHILIP.

[_Making for the door on the left._] I'll bolt, then.

ROOPE.

[_Rising and seizing him._] You shall do nothing of the kind. [_Forcing
him down upon the fauteuil-stool._] You'll upset my luncheon-table!
[_Tidying himself._] You're most inconsiderate; you are positively. And
you've disarranged my necktie.

PHILIP.

[_In a low voice._] How is she looking, Robbie?

ROOPE.

Brilliant. [_Putting his necktie in order._] Is that straight?
Brilliant.

PHILIP.

[_Gazing into space._] Ten years ago, old man!

ROOPE.

Quite.

PHILIP.

It was at her father and mother's, in Paris, that I made _your_
acquaintance. Recollect?

ROOPE.

Perfectly; in the Avenue Montaigne. I had a flat in the Palais-Royal at
the time.

PHILIP.

[_Scornfully._] You were on