Eve (half smiling). Incorruptible as ever. But then even Bill Sykes enjoyed the devotion of a dog—and of a woman. [Looking curiously around.] What a difference the absence of books and pictures can make in a room—a room that was once as familiar as one's own face. Bachelor apartments, evidently, if fencing-foils and golf-clubs, cigar-boxes and riding-boots, count for anything. Perhaps as the titular Mrs. Effingham I should feel flattered in that the feminine touch is so unmistakably wanting. But then I have never found Godfrey deficient in the actual decencies of life. [She walks to the centre-table and takes up the photograph of a woman, enclosed in a handsome silver frame.] Hym! It is possible that I have arrived at my conclusions too hastily. [Thoughtfully.] Where have I seen that face? Ah, yes; Carita of the Hyperion and the reigning mode along with squash-ball and motor-cars. [Looking critically at the picture.] Taken in a bad light, I should say—and designedly so. Really, this is a reflection upon Godfrey's intelligence—five-and-forty if she's a day. What a treasure of a maid she must have! Oh—
Godfrey (bowing stiffly). Pardon me if I have kept you waiting; I was dressing.
Eve. It is of no consequence. You received my letter, of course?
Godfrey. A letter! and from you? But I remember now—I was out of town yesterday. [Wallis enters with letters.
Godfrey (taking a letter from the salver). This must be it. [About to open it.] May I offer you a chair?
Eve. Thank you—no.
Godfrey (opening letter). If you will permit me. [Looking up.] The twenty-ninth? Then it is to-day that your father is coming?
Eve. Yes; he wrote me that he would arrive as usual by the four train. It will only be for dinner. You know he never stops overnight.
Godfrey. Then—then he does not know?
Eve (interrupting). That I am still at Lauriston, while you are living en garçon here? No; I have not told him—he would not appreciate the situation.
Godfrey. The explanation would be difficult; I can quite understand that.
Eve (quickly). Besides being unnecessary. The rest of the world—society itself,—are they not still in the dark?
Godfrey. We have certainly been fortunate. A whole month and not even a paragraph. But with Mr. Rivers actually in the house—
Eve (decisively). He must come, and he must not suspect. My father is an old man, but, strange to say, he still has his illusions; stranger yet, one of them is our happiness. It is bound up with his life, and I dare not let him know the truth—at least not yet.
Godfrey. And you therefore propose—
[He refers to the letter.
Eve. An armed truce for the day. I have brought down from Lauriston a box of pictures and other trifles, and half an hour's work will put the room as he remembers it. Then if you will be good enough to dine at home—but perhaps you have an engagement?
Godfrey. No—that is, I think not. I can do so, of course, if you wish it.
Eve. It will only be a matter of three or four hours at the outside. I am going back to the cottage by the nine train.
Godfrey. Please to consider that the house is at your service. Shall I ring for Wallis?
Eve (hesitatingly). And—and I am sure that you will be generous enough to understand that what I ask has been entirely for his sake—my father's.
Godfrey. Perfectly.
Eve. Thank you. May I have the use of the blue room?
Godfrey. Or any other.
Eve (going). You are very good. [Stopping.] I forgot to say—to remind you—
Godfrey (interrupting). Oh yes; I will meet Mr. Rivers as usual at the station. You said the four train?
Eve. Yes.
Godfrey (looking at his watch). It is now half after three. I will drive around to the club and go to the station from there. Allow me. [He crosses over and holds the door open for Eve to pass out. He rings, and Wallis enters.] The brougham at once. But wait a moment. Was there an answer to my note of this morning?
