[He gravitates towards his papers.]
WIFE. [Standing still and looking at him] Quite!
PROF. Well, I'll try and finish this to-night; then, to-morrow we might have a jaunt. How about a theatre? There's a thing--they say- -called "Chinese Chops," that's been running years.
WIFE. [Softly to herself as he settles down into his chair] Oh! God!
[While he takes up a sheet of paper and adjusts himself, she stands at the window staring with all her might at the boulder, till from behind it the faun's head and shoulders emerge once more.]
PROF. Very queer the power suggestion has over the mind. Very queer! There's nothing really in animism, you know, except the curious shapes rocks, trees and things take in certain lights--effect they have on our imagination. [He looks up] What's the matter now?
WIFE. [Startled] Nothing! Nothing!
[Her eyes waver to him again, and the FAUN vanishes. She turns again to look at the boulder; there is nothing there; a little shiver of wind blows some petals off the trees. She catches one of them, and turning quickly, goes out through the curtain.