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. One feels that before strangers he would not if he could
help it move or speak at all. A pale face: the mouth would be
hardened by fanaticism were it not for the elements of Christianity in
his religion: and he has the limpid eye of the enthusiast._
TREBELL. Glad to see you. You know Mrs O'Connell.