He. Don't think of anything so ugly. We shall be beyond it.

She. It will be there all the same in the mouths of Simla
telegraphed over India, and talked of at the dinners and when He
goes out they will stare at Him to see how he takes it. And we shall
be dead, Guy dear dead and cast into the outer darkness where
there is

He. Love at least. Isn't that enough?

She. I have said so.

He. And you think so still?

She. What do you think?

He. What have I done? It means equal ruin to me, as the world
reckons it outcasting, the loss of my appointment, the breaking off
my life's work. I pay my price.

She. And are you so much above the world that you can afford to
pay it. Am I?

He. My Divinity what else?

She. A very ordinary woman, I'm afraid, but so far, respectable.
How d'you do, Mrs. Middle-ditch? Your husband? I think he's
riding down to Annandale with Colonel Statters. Yes, isn't it divine
after the rain? Guy, how long am I to be allowed to bow to Mrs.
Middleditch? Till the 17th?