class="name">Sir G. I gathered it from what you said yourself.

Philip. I won’t say a word more, or in two minutes you will guess the lady’s name.

Sir G. I have already guessed it.

Philip. What!

Sir G. Rose Dalrymple.

Philip. (springs up) This is inexplicable!

Sir G. Not at all.

Philip. I have told nobody!

Sir G. You have told me.

Philip. You know Miss Dalrymple?

Sir G. She is my niece. (Philip steps back) She is a South Australian. She came to England in the “Kangaroo,” and has been stopping with a maiden aunt at Bayswater.

Philip. Your niece!

Sir G. I am her guardian, since my sister died.

Philip. Then, she is your wife’s——

Sir G. Niece by marriage. (crosses, L.) They have just come back from the theatre.

Philip. Oh! (drops into chair, C.)

Sir G. I hear them.

Enter Rose Dalrymple, in evening dress, as if returning from the theatre.

Rose. Ah, Uncle George! (about to embrace)

Philip. (springs up again) Rose!

Rose. Philip! (rushes to his arms)

Sir G. Humph. Exit Uncle George.

(arranges papers on desk)

Rose. How late you are! We’ve been expecting you all the afternoon.

Philip. (taking her aside, R.) You didn’t say that you were coming here!

Rose. No! didn’t I tell you I would give you a surprise?

Philip. When?

Rose. In my letter. Haven’t you received it?

Philip. Yes, but I haven’t had time to open it. (produces it—breaks the seal—and replaces it in his pocket, unnoticed by Sir George) And when I told you of my invitation here, you didn’t tell me that you knew Sir George.

Rose. Because I wanted to surprise you, dear.

Philip. Well, you have done so most effectually. Tell me, does Lady Carlyon know of our engagement?

Rose. No, not yet. I never saw her till to-day, and I didn’t like to be so confidential.

Philip. (relieved) Ah!

Rose. You’re not angry with me for not having told her?

Philip. Not at all. We will surprise her.

Rose. Shall we?

Philip. To-night we will pretend we are strangers.

Rose. But I shall pretend very badly, I am sure.

Philip. Oh, you can keep a secret. You have shown me that.

Rose. I’ll try, at any rate.

Sir G. (putting chair, C., into its place at desk) Now, Miss Dalrymple, if you are at liberty, perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me what has become of my wife.

Rose. (going to him, C.) She’ll be here directly. She is only speaking to the servants. (kisses him)

Enter Lady Carlyon, L., also in evening dress, with a bouquet; she at once sees Philip and he her; Philip, R., turns full front to audience.

Lady C. (aside) Philip! (stops short)

Sir G. (seeing her) Ah, here she is! (goes to her, L.) My dear, you don’t look well!

Lady C. The theatre was so close.

Sir G. It always makes you ill. But you have not seen Philip. (indicates Philip)

Lady C. Ah, Mr. Graham! (advances C.—Philip advances to meet her) Excuse me for not recognising you. (they shake hands rather ceremoniously)

Sir G. What has turned Philip into Mr. Graham, pray?

Lady C. He has not been to see us for so long.

Philip. Allow me. (helps to remove her cloak)

Sir G. No wonder, if you make a stranger of him when he comes. (sits C.)

Lady C. If Philip is a stranger, he has made one of himself.

Philip. The fault is mine entirely. (takes cloak)

Lady C. Thanks.

Goes L. again with bouquet and sits down—Rose has meanwhile deposited her cloak at the farther end of the lounge—she takes the other cloak from Philip and flings it upon her own, then leans over the desk—Philip sits upon the end of the lounge.

Sir G. Well, how did you enjoy the play?

Rose. Oh, so much, Uncle George! Although it was in French, I followed every word.

Philip. It is the French plays you have been to?

Sir G. What was the piece?

Lady C. “Une Chaine,” by Eugène Scribe.

Sir G. I don’t remember it.

Rose. And it is so exciting. There is a young man in it—such a nice young man, with a moustache—oh, such a sweet moustache!

Sir G. Well?

Rose. He’s in love.

Sir G. Of course.

Rose. With a young girl—oh, such a stupid girl! I can’t think what he could have seen in her—and she’s in love with him.

Sir G. And they get married, I suppose.

Rose. In the last act; but in the meantime there is such a to-do.

Sir G. Why?

Rose. It appears, before the play began, the hero—the young man——

Philip. With the moustache——

Rose. Had been in love with someone else.

Sir G. Ah!

Rose. But now he doesn’t care for her a bit.

Sir G. What is the difficulty, then?

Rose. She cares for him; and though he’s trying through the whole four acts, do what he will, he can’t get rid of her.

Sir G. I see. That is the chain.

Rose. He nearly breaks it half a dozen times, but something always happens to prevent him. You’ve no idea how interesting it