obbie! If
you'd been a literary bloke, what sellers _you'd_ have written!

ROOPE.

[_Behind the smoking-table, smoothing his hair complacently._] Funny,
your remark. As a matter of fact, I _used_ to dabble a little in
pen-and-ink as a young man.

PHILIP.

[_Reading, a tender ring in his voice._] "Forgive me. I forgive you.
When may I come to you?" [_Adding his signature._] "Philip."

ROOPE.

Admirable!

PHILIP.

[_Folding and enclosing the note--catching some of_ ROOPE_'s hopefulness._]
In the meantime I'll array myself in my Sunday-best--[_moistening the
envelope_] on the chance----

ROOPE.

Do; at once. [_Putting on his hat._] She _may_ summon you by telephone----

PHILIP.

[_Addressing the envelope._] She gave me a scarf-pin yesterday--such a
beauty. [_Softly._] I'll wear it. [_Rising and giving the note to_
ROOPE.] Bless you, old boy!

[ROOPE _pockets the note, grasps_ PHILIP_'s hand
hurriedly, and bustles to the vestibule door._

ROOPE.

My quickest way is the Tube to Bayswater, and then a taxi across the
Park----

[_He has entered the vestibule--omitting to close the
door in his haste--and has opened the outer door when_
PHILIP _calls to him._

PHILIP.

[_Standing behind the smoking-table--with a change of manner._] Robbie----

ROOPE.

Hey?

PHILIP.

Robbie--[ROOPE _returns to_ PHILIP _reluctantly, leaving the outer door
open._] Oh, Robbie--[_gripping_ ROOPE's _arm_] how I boasted to you of
my triumph--my grand victory! How I swaggered and bellowed, and crowed
over you----!

ROOPE.

[_Fidgeting to get away._] Yes, but we won't discuss that now, Phil----

PHILIP.

[_Detaining him._] Wait. [_Brokenly._] Robbie--should Ottoline show any
inclination to--to patch matters up, you may tell her--as from me--that
I--I've done with it.

ROOPE.

[_Wonderingly._] Done with it?

PHILIP.

My career as a writing-man. It's finished. [_Hanging his head._] I'm
sorry to break faith with her people; but she