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           Aminutelater,ashesatanddangledhisfeetontheedge,aformshotbyhim;Rosalind,herarmsspreadinabeautifulswandive,hadsailedthroughtheairintotheclearwater.

           "OfcourseIhadtogo,afterthat—andInearlykilledmyself.IthoughtIwasprettygoodtoeventryit.Nobodyelseinthepartytriedit.Well,afterwardRosalindhadthenervetoaskmewhyIstoopedoverwhenIdove.’Itdidn’tmakeitanyeasier,’shesaid,’itjusttookallthecourageoutofit.’Iaskyou,whatcanamandowithagirllikethat?Unnecessary,Icallit."

           GillespiefailedtounderstandwhyAmorywassmilingdelightedlyallthroughlunch.Hethoughtperhapshewasoneofthesehollowoptimists.

           FIVEWEEKSLATER

           AgainthelibraryoftheConnagehouse.ROSALINDisalone,sittingontheloungestaringverymoodilyandunhappilyatnothing.Shehaschangedperceptibly—sheisatriflethinnerforonething;thelightinhereyesisnotsobright;shelookseasilyayearolder.

           Hermothercomesin,muffledinanopera-cloak.ShetakesinROSALINDwithanervousglance.

           MRS.CONNAGE:Whoiscomingto-night?

           (ROSALINDfailstohearher,atleasttakesnonotice.)

           MRS.CONNAGE:AleciscominguptotakemetothisBarrieplay,"Ettu,Brutus."(Sheperceivesthatsheistalkingtoherself.)Rosalind!Iaskedyouwhoiscomingto-night?

           ROSALIND:(Starting)Oh—what—oh—Amory—

           MRS.CONNAGE:(Sarcastically)YouhavesomanyadmirerslatelythatIcouldn’timaginewhichone.(ROSALINDdoesn’tanswer.