no help can come from her.]

MAGGIE. That's the only copy there is, John. [To VENABLES] Let me
make a fresh one, and send it to you in an hour or two.

VENABLES [good-naturedly]. I could not put you to that trouble, Mrs.
Shand. I will take good care of it.

MAGGIE. If anything were to happen to you on the way home, wouldn't
whatever is in your pocket be considered to be the property of your
heirs?

VENABLES [laughing]. Now there is forethought! Shand, I think that
after that--! [He returns the speech to JOHN, whose hand swallows it
greedily.] She is Scotch too, Comtesse.

COMTESSE [delighted]. Yes, she is Scotch too.

VENABLES. Though the only persons likely to do for me in the street,
Shand, are your ladies' committee. Ever since they took the horse out
of my brougham, I can scent them a mile away.

COMTESSE. A mile? Charles, peep in there.

[He softly turns the handle of the dining-room door, and realises
that his scent is not so good as he had thought it. He bids his
hostess and the COMTESSE good-bye in a burlesque whisper and tiptoes
off to safer places. JOHN having gone out with him, MAGGIE can no
longer avoid the COMTESSE's reproachful eye. That much injured lady
advances upon her with accusing finger.]