She gets up cold and collected, steadied
merely by the unexpected sound._
AMY. I mustn't keep you from governing the country. I'm sure you'll do it
very well.
TREBELL. [_At the telephone._] Yes, bring him up, of course ... isn't Mr.
Kent there? [_then to her._] I may be ten minutes with him or half an hour.
Wait and we'll come to a conclusion.
KENT _comes in, an open letter in his hand._
KENT. This note, sir. Had I better go round myself and see him?
TREBELL. [_As he takes the note._] Cantelupe's come.
KENT. [_Glancing at the telephone._] Oh, has he!
TREBELL. [_As he reads._] Yes I think you had.
KENT. Evans was very serious.
_He goes back into his room._ AMY _moves swiftly to where_ TREBELL _is
standing and whispers._
AMY. Won't you tell me whom to go to?
TREBELL. No.
AMY. Oh, really ... what unpractical sentimental children you men are! You
and your consciences ... you and your laws. You drive us to distraction and
sometimes to death by your stupidities. Poor women--!
_The Maid comes in to announce_ LORD CHARLES CANTELUPE, _who follows
her._ CANTELUPE _is forty, unathletic, and a gentleman in the best and
worst sense of the word. He moves always with a caution which may
betray his belief in the personality of the Devil. He speaks
cautiously too, and as if not he but something inside him were
speaking.
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