STEVE. 'Not you.' COLONEL. 'I mustn't ask her name?' STEVE, with presence of mind, 'I have a very good reason for not telling you her name.' COLONEL. 'So? And she is not exactly young? Twice your age, Steve?' STEVE, with excusable heat, 'Not at all. But she is of the age when a woman knows her own mind--which makes the whole affair extraordinarily flattering.' With undoubtedly a shudder of disgust Amy closes the cupboard door. Steve continues to behave in the most gallant manner. 'You must not quiz me, Colonel, for her circumstances are such that her partiality for me puts her in a dangerous position, and I would go to the stake rather than give her away.' COLONEL. 'Quite so.' He makes obeisance to the beauty of the sentiment, and then proceeds to an examination of the hearthrug. STEVE. 'What are you doing?' COLONEL. 'Trying to find out for myself whether she comes here.' STEVE. 'How can you find that out by crawling about my carpet?' COLONEL. 'I am looking for hair-pins--triumphantly holding up a lady's glove--'and I have found one!' They have been too engrossed to hear the bell ring, but now voices are audible. STEVE. 'There is some one coming up.' COLONEL. 'Perhaps it is _she_, Steve! No, that is Alice's voice. Catch, you scoundrel,' and he tosses him the glove. Alice is shown in, and is warmly acclaimed. She would not feel so much at ease if she knew who, hand on heart, has recognised her through the pantry key-hole. STEVE, as he makes Alice comfortable by the fire, 'How did you leave them at home?' ALICE, relapsing into gloom, 'All hating me.' STEVE. 'This man says that home is the most delightful club in the world.' ALICE. 'I am not a member; I have been blackballed by my own baby. Robert, I dined in state with Cosmo, and he was so sulky that he ate his fish without salt rather than ask me to pass it.'