f.a.n.n.y. The excitement! Do you know what an actress's life always seemed to me like? Dancing on a tight-rope with everybody throwing stones at you. One soon gets tired of that sort of excitement. Oh, I was never in love with the stage. Had to do something for a living.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It must be a hard life for a woman.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Especially for anyone not brought up to it.

f.a.n.n.y. You see, I had a good voice and what I suppose you might call a natural talent for acting. It seemed the easiest thing.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I suppose your family were very much opposed to it? [Vernon rises. He stands with his back to the fire.]

f.a.n.n.y. My family? Hadn't any!

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. No family?

Bennet enters. Vernon and f.a.n.n.y left the door open. He halts, framed by the doorway.

f.a.n.n.y. No. You see, I was an only child. My father and mother both died before I was fourteen.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But your uncle?

f.a.n.n.y. Oh, him! It was to get away from him and all that crew that I went on the stage.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It is so sad when relations don't get on together.

f.a.n.n.y. Sadder still when they think they've got a right to trample on you, just because you happen to be an orphan and--I don't want to talk about my relations. I want to forget them. I stood them for nearly six months. I don't want to be reminded of them. I want to forget that they ever existed. I want to forget -

Bennet has come down very quietly. f.a.n.n.y, from where he stands, is the only one who sees him. He stands looking at her, his features, as ever, immovable. At sight of him her eyes and mouth open wider and wider. The words die away from her tongue. Vernon has turned away to put a log on the fire, and so has not seen her expression-- only hears her sudden silence. He looks up and sees Bennet.

VERNON. Ah, Bennet! [He advances, holding out his hand.] You quite well?

BENNET [shaking hands with him]. Quite well.

VERNON. Good! And all the family?

BENNET. Nothing to complain of. Charles has had a touch of influenza.

VERNON. Ah, sorry to hear that.

BENNET. And your lordship?

VERNON. Fit as a fiddle--your new mistress.

f.a.n.n.y has risen. Bennet turns to her. For a moment his back is towards the other three. f.a.n.n.y alone sees his face.

BENNET. We shall endeavour to do our duty to her ladyship. [He turns to Vernon.] I had arranged for a more fitting reception -

VERNON. To tell the honest truth, Bennet, the very thing we were afraid of--why we walked from the station, and slipped in by the side door. [Laughing.] Has the luggage come?

BENNET. It has just arrived. It was about that I came to ask. I could not understand -

The Misses Wetherell have also risen. f.a.n.n.y's speechless amazement is attributed by them and Vernon to natural astonishment at discovery of his rank.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. You will be wanting a quiet talk together. We shall see you at dinner.

VERNON. What time is dinner?

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Half past seven.

[To f.a.n.n.y] But don't you hurry, dear. I will tell cook to delay it a little. [She kisses her.]

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You will want some time to arrange that pretty hair of yours. [She also kisses the pa.s.sive, speechless f.a.n.n.y. They go out hand in hand.]

BENNET. I will see, while I am here, that your lordship's room is in order.

VERNON. Why, where's Robert, then?

BENNET. He has gone into town to do some shopping. We did not expect your lordship much before nine. There may be one or two things to see to. [He goes into his lordship's apartments, closing the door behind him.]

f.a.n.n.y. Vernon, where am I?

VERNON. At home, dear.

f.a.n.n.y. Yes, but where?

VERNON. At Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. [f.a.n.n.y sits down on the settee--drops down rather.] You're not angry with me? You know how the world always talks in these cases. I wanted to be able to prove to them all that you married me for myself. Not because I was Lord Bantock. Can you forgive me?

f.a.n.n.y [she still seems in a dream]. Yes--of course. You didn't--you wouldn't--[She suddenly springs up.] Vernon, you do love me? [She flings her arms round his neck.]

VERNON. Dear!

f.a.n.n.y. You will never be ashamed of me?

VERNON. Dearest!

f.a.n.n.y. I was only a music-hall singer. There's no getting over it, you know.

VERNON. I should have loved you had you been a beggar-maid.

f.a.n.n.y [she still clings to him]. With an uncle a costermonger, and an aunt who sold matches. It wouldn't have made any difference to you, would it? You didn't marry me for my family, did you? You didn't, did you?

VERNON. Darling! I married you because you are the most fascinating, the most lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the world. [f.a.n.n.y gives a sob.] As for your family--I've got a confession to make to you, dear. I made inquiries about your family before I proposed to you. Not for my own sake--because I knew I'd have to answer a lot of stupid questions. It seemed to me quite a good family.

f.a.n.n.y. It is! Oh, it is! There never was such a respectable family. That's why I never could get on with them.

VERNON [laughing]. Well, you haven't got to--any more. We needn't even let them know -

Bennet returns.

BENNET. Robert I find has returned. It is ten minutes to seven.