to him.] For Heaven's sake light it! Then, perhaps, you'll be able
to do something else than stare. I have claret and water--mixed--
with my dinner. Uncle pours it out for me. They've locked up my
cigarettes. Aunt Susannah is coming in to-morrow morning to hear me
say my prayers. Doesn't trust me by myself. Thinks I'll skip them.
She's the housekeeper here. I've got to know them by heart before I
go to bed to-night, and now I've mislaid them. [She goes to the
desk--hunts for them.]

NEWTE [having lighted his eternal cigar, he can begin to think]. But
why should THEY -

FANNY [still at desk]. Because they're that sort. They honestly
think they are doing the right and proper thing--that Providence has
put it into their hands to turn me out a passable substitute for all
a Lady Bantock should be; which, so far as I can understand, is
something between the late lamented Queen Victoria and Goody-Two-
Shoes. They are the people that I ran away from, the people I've
told you about, the people I've always said I'd rather starve than
ever go back to. And here I am, plumped down in the midst of them
again--for life! [Honoria Bennet, the "still-room" maid, has
entered. She is a pert young minx of about Fanny's own age.] What
is is? What is it?

HONORIA. Merely passing through. Sorry to have excited your
ladyship. [Goes into dressing-room.]

FANNY. My cousin Honoria. They've sent her up to keep an eye upon
me. Little cat! [She takes her handkerchief, drapes it over the
keyhole of the dressing-room door.]