Miss Macfarlane.

Nonsense, dear; you're no failure. But I'll tell ye what the two of you are--a pair of fools; that's what you are. You should have put your foot down, my dear. _She_ was the Black Cat you ought to have got rid of, and nipped this business in the bud. I don't know how far it has gone. Does he want to run away with her?

Mrs. Denham.

No; he professes to have given her up.

Miss Macfarlane.

Then he's none such a fool, after all. That woman would have led him a pretty dance!

Mrs. Denham.

He loves her--let him go to her. (_Rises and crosses_ L.

_Stopped by Miss Macfarlane._)

Miss Macfarlane.

Fiddlesticks, my dear! Don't force him into her arms. Mind you, he has vowed to cherish you as well as to love you; and how can he do that if you drive him away? Do ye remember one of his misquotations from Byron:

"Man's love is from his life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's main subsistence?"

There's truth in that.

Mrs. Denham.

Men make love, like everything else, a mere _game_.

Miss Macfarlane.

Ay, you're right there. But until _we_ hold the purse strings, it's hard to keep them to the strict rules o' the game.

Mrs. Denham.

That is a vile injustice! I may not be able to fight on equal terms, but I will never submit. If he does not go, I will. (_Crosses_ R.)

Miss Macfarlane.

Don't wreck your lives for a man's passing fancy. If that's your new morality, I prefer the old. Don't turn this comedy into a tragedy.

That's all very well on the stage, but we're not acting an Ibsen play; it doesn't pay in real life.

Mrs. Denham.

A good tragedy is better than a bad comedy.

Miss Macfarlane.

Come to your room, my dear. Have your cry out, sponge your eyes, and we'll have a quiet talk.

Mrs. Denham.

Oh, this sense of failure! It will drive me mad!

ACT DROP.

Act III.

_Scene: The Studio. Mrs. Denham lying on sofa_ R C, _a shawl over her feet, her face buried in her hands, moaning inarticulately. Table as in_ ACT II.

(_Enter Denham excitedly._)

Denham.

Constance!

Mrs. Denham.

(_moving and raising her head_) Well?

Denham.

Where is Undine?

Mrs. Denham.

Undine?

Denham.

Yes. Do you know where she is?

Mrs. Denham.

In her room, I suppose. I told her to stay there.

Denham.

She is not in the room--not in the house.

Mrs. Denham.

But--I locked the door.

Denham.