ALICE. 'Isn't it horrid of Robert to get on with her so well. Steve,
say Robert's a brute.'

STEVE, as he bids her good afternoon, 'Of course he is; a selfish
beast.'

ALICE. 'There's another kiss to you for saying so.' The doomed woman
presents her cheek again.

STEVE. 'And you'll come to me after dinner to-night, Alice? Here, I'll
leave my card, I'm not half a mile from this street.'

ALICE. 'I mayn't be able to get away. It will depend on whether my
silly husband wants to stay with his wretch of a baby. I'll see you to
the door. Steve, you're _much_ nicer than Robert.'

With these dreadful words she and the libertine go. Amy and Ginevra
emerge white to the lips; or, at least, they feel as white as that.

AMY, clinging to the screen for support, 'He kissed her.'

GINEVRA, sternly, 'He called her Alice.'

AMY. 'She is going to his house to-night. An assignation.'

GINEVRA. 'They will be chambers, Amy--they are always chambers. And
after dinner, he said--so he's stingy, too. Here is his card: "Mr.
Stephen Rollo.'"