[He passes through the door into the house. FERRAND stands at
the fire, with his limbs spread as it were to embrace it,
smoking with abandonment. WELLWYN returns stealthily, dressed
in a Jaeger dressing-gown, and bearing a pair of drawers, his
trousers, a pair of slippers, and a sweater.]

WELLWYN. [Speaking in a low voice, for the door is still open.] Can
you make these do for the moment?

FERRAND. 'Je vous remercie', Monsieur. [Pointing to the screen.]
May I retire?

WELLWYN. Yes, yes.

[FERRAND goes behind the screen. WELLWYN closes the door into
the house, then goes to the window to draw the curtains. He
suddenly recoils and stands petrified with doubt.]

WELLWYN. Good Lord!

[There is the sound of tapping on glass. Against the
window-pane is pressed the face of a man. WELLWYN motions to him
to go away. He does not go, but continues tapping. WELLWYN
opens the door. There enters a square old man, with a red,
pendulous jawed, shaking face under a snow besprinkled bowler
hat. He is holding out a visiting card with tremulous hand.]

WELLWYN. Who's that? Who are you?