FREDA. That will be clever.

BILL. I wish to Heaven my affairs weren't in such a mess.

FREDA. I shall be--all--right, thank you.

BILL. You must think me a blackguard. [She shakes her head] Abuse
me--say something! Don't look like that!

FREDA. Were you ever really fond of me?

BILL. Of course I was, I am now. Give me your hands.

She looks at him, then drags her hands from his, and covers her
face.

BILL. [Clenching his fists] Look here! I'll prove it. [Then as
she suddenly flings her arms round his neck and clings to him]
There, there!

There is a click of a door handle. They start away from each
other, and see LADY CHESHIRE regarding them.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Without irony] I beg your pardon.

She makes as if to withdraw from an unwarranted intrusion, but
suddenly turning, stands, with lips pressed together, waiting.

LADY CHESHIRE. Yes?