RICHARDSON. 'Oh, ma'am, you are terrifying me.'

AMY. 'I wasn't talking to you. You may go. Stop. How long had she been
here before I came?'

RICHARDSON. 'She--Her what you are speaking about--'

AMY. 'Come, I must know.' The terrible admission refuses to pass
Richardson's lips, and of a sudden Amy has a dark suspicion. 'Has she
gone! Is she here now?'

RICHARDSON. 'It was just a chop. What makes you so grudging of a
chop?'

AMY. 'I don't care what they ate. Has she gone?'

RICHARDSON. 'Oh, ma'am.'

The little maid, bearing the dishes, backs to the door, opens it with
her foot, and escapes from this terrible visitor. The drawn curtains
attract Amy's eagle eye, and she looks behind them. There is no one
there. She pulls open the door of the cupboard and says firmly, 'Come
out.' No one comes. She peeps into the cupboard and finds it empty. A
cupboard and no one in it. How strange. She sits down almost in tears,
wishing very much for the counsel of Ginevra. Thus Steve finds her
when he returns.

STEVE. 'I'm awfully glad, Alice, that you--'

He stops abruptly at sight of a strange lady. As for Amy, the word