Lady Dorothy.
It seems so, certainly.
Sir Robert.
Then write immediately; tell the girl to come to
London at once.
Lady Dorothy.
Very well, if you are satisfied.
Sir Robert.
I am, perfectly. [Lady Dorothy goes out. Sir
Robert continues to look at the letter, reading parts of it.] "I am sure you will like Freda. She is a
sweet, simple, frank, sincere creature. Decidedly
pretty, too, with her sea-blue eyes and golden hair."
[" Big Ben " is heard chiming the quarter—six beats.
Sir Robert folds up the letters, puts them to his lips, returns them to the drawer; switches off the light, and is turning up stage when— Voices are heard from supper-room, and the four men come out, looking very grave.] So soon? Surely you've not finished
already?
Lord Burnley.
Robert, there is something we have only just
thought of—something serious.
Sir Robert.
What is it?
Lord Burnley.
The reply to our Ultimatum had to reach us before
midnight, isn't that so?
Sir Robert.
Undoubtedly.
