Part 8 (1/2)

AGNES. At any rate, I'll make this brighter tomorrow with some tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs willingly. [Pointing to the dressmaker's box.] Then you won't insist on my decking myself out in rags of that kind--eh! There's something in the idea--I needn't explain.

LUCAS. [Fretfully.] Insist! I'll not urge you again. [Pointing to the box.] Get rid of it somehow. Are you copying that ma.n.u.script of mine?

AGNES. I had just finished it.

LUCAS. Already! [Taking up her copy.] How beautifully you write! [Going to her eagerly.] What do you think of my Essay?

AGNES. It bristles with truth; it is vital.

LUCAS. My method of treating it?

AGNES. Hardly a word out of place.

LUCAS [Chilled.] Hardly a word?

AGNES. Not a word, in fact.

LUCAS. No, dear, I daresay your ”hardly” is nearer the mark.

AGNES. I a.s.sure you it is brilliant, Lucas.

LUCAS. What a wretch I am ever to find the smallest fault in you! Shall we dine out tonight?

AGNES. As you wish, dear.

LUCAS. At the Grunwald? [He goes to the table to pick up his ma.n.u.script; when his back is turned she looks at her watch quickly.]

We'll solemnly toast this, shall we, in Montefiascone?

AGNES. [Eyeing him askance.] You are going out for your chocolate this afternoon as usual, I suppose?

LUCAS. Yes, but I'll look through your copy first, so that I can slip it into the post at once. You are not coming out?

AGNES. Not till dinner-time.

LUCAS. [Kissing her on the forehead.] I talked over the points of this --[tapping the ma.n.u.script]--with a man this morning; he praised some of the phrases warmly.

AGNES. A man? [In an altered tone.] The Duke?

LUCAS. Er--yes.

AGNES. [With a.s.sumed indifference, replacing the lid on the dressmaker's box.] You have seen him again today, then?

LUCAS. We strolled about together for half an hour on the Piazza.

AGNES. [Replacing the cord round the box.] You--you don't dislike him as much as you did?

LUCAS. He's someone to chat to. I suppose one gets accustomed even to a man one dislikes.

AGNES. [Almost inaudibly.] I suppose so.

LUCAS. As a matter of fact, he has the reputation of being rather a pleasant companion; though I--I confess--I--I don't find him very entertaining. [He goes out. She stands staring at the door through which he has disappeared. There is a knock at the opposite door.]