"With a hey-ho chivy
Hark forrard, hark forrard, tantivy!"




ACT I

The SCENE is the pretty drawing-room of a flat. There are two
doors, one open into the hall, the other shut and curtained.
Through a large bay window, the curtains of which are not yet
drawn, the towers of Westminster can be seen darkening in a
summer sunset; a grand piano stands across one corner. The
man-servant PAYNTER, clean-shaven and discreet, is arranging two
tables for Bridge.

BURNEY, the maid, a girl with one of those flowery Botticellian
faces only met with in England, comes in through the curtained
door, which she leaves open, disclosing the glimpse of a white
wall. PAYNTER looks up at her; she shakes her head, with an
expression of concern.

PAYNTER. Where's she gone?

BURNEY. Just walks about, I fancy.

PAYNTER. She and the Governor don't hit it! One of these days
she'll flit--you'll see. I like her--she's a lady; but these