between the doors, are an oblong table and a chair; and other
articles of furniture and embellishment--cabinets of various kinds,
jardinieres, mirrors, lamps, etc., etc.--occupy spaces not provided for
in this description._

_Among other objects upon the oblong table are some framed photographs,
conspicuously displayed, of members of the Royal Family, and a
book-rack containing books of reference._

_It is daylight._

[MISS TRACER, _a red-haired, sprightly young lady, is
seated upon the settee on the right, turning the leaves
of a picture-paper. A note-book, with a pencil stuck in
it, lies by her side. There is a knock at the door on
the left._

MISS TRACER.

[_Calling out._] Eh?

[_The door opens and_ LEONARD WESTRIP _appears. He
carries a pile of press-cuttings._

WESTRIP.

[_A fresh-coloured, boyish young man._] I beg your pardon----[_seeing
that_ MISS TRACER _is alone_] oh, good morning.

MISS TRACER.

Good morning.

WESTRIP.

[_Entering and closing the door._] Lady Filson isn't down yet?

MISS TRACER.

No. [_Tossing the picture-paper onto the round table._] She didn't get
to bed till pretty late last night, I suspect.

WESTRIP.

[_Advancing._] I thought she'd like to look through these. [_Showing_
MISS TRACER _the press-cuttings._] From the press-cutting agency.

MISS TRACER.

[_Picking up her note-book and rising._] You bet she would!

WESTRIP.

[_Handing her the press-cuttings._] Let me have them back again,
please. Sir Randle hardly had time to glance at them before he went
out.

MISS TRACER.

[_Inquisitively, elevating her eyebrows._] He's out very early?

WESTRIP.

Yes; he's gone to a memorial service.

MISS TRACER.

Another! [_With a twinkle._] That's the third this month.

WESTRIP.

So it is. I'm awfully sorry for him.

MISS TRACER.

[_Laughing slyly._] He, he, he! Ho, ho!

WESTRIP.

[_Surprised._] What is there to laugh at, Miss Tracer?