MRS HUSHABYE [caressing her]. Pettikins, my pettikins, how I envy you! and how I pity you!
ELLIE. Pity me! Oh, why?
- A very handsome man of fifty, with mousquetaire moustaches, wearing a rather dandified curly brimmed hat, and carrying an laborate walking-stick, comes into the room from the hall, and stops short at sight of the women on the sofa.
ELLIE [seeing him and rising in glad surprise]. Oh! Hesione: this is Mr Marcus Darnley.
MRS HUSHABYE [rising]. What a lark! He is my husband.
ELLIE. But now—[she stops suddenly: then turns pale and sways].
MRS HUSHABYE [catching her and sitting down with her on the sofa]. Steady, my pettikins.
THE MAN [with a mixture of confusion and effrontery, depositing his hat and stick on the teak table]. My real name, Miss Dunn, is Hector Hushabye. I leave you to judge whether that is a name any sensitive man would care to confess to. I never use it when I can possibly help it. I have been away for nearly a month; and I had no idea you knew my wife, or that you were coming here. I am none the less delighted to find you in our little house.
ELLIE [in great distress]. I don't know what to do. Please, may I speak to papa? Do leave me. I can't bear it.
MRS HUSHABYE. Be off, Hector.
HECTOR. I—
MRS HUSHABYE. Quick, quick. Get out.
HECTOR. If you think it better—[he goes out, taking his hat with him but leaving the stick on the table].
MRS HUSHABYE [laying Ellie down at the end of the sofa]. Now, pettikins, he is gone. There's nobody but
