BERTLEY. Yes, never mind that. It's you I'm thinking of.
MRS. MEGAN. I'd sooner they'd hit me.
WELLWYN. [Suddenly.] Well said, my child!
MRS. MEGAN. 'Twasn't his fault.
FERRAND. [Without irony--to WELLWYN.] I cannot accept that
Monsieur. The blame--it is all mine.
ANN. [Entering suddenly from the house.] Daddy, they're having an
awful----!
[The voices of PROFESSOR CALWAY and SIR THOMAS HOXTON are
distinctly heard.]
CALWAY. The question is a much wider one, Sir Thomas.
HOXTON. As wide as you like, you'll never----
[WELLWYN pushes ANN back into the house and closes the door
behind her. The voices are still faintly heard arguing on the
threshold.]
BERTLEY. Let me go in here a minute, Wellyn. I must finish
speaking to her. [He motions MRS. MEGAN towards the model's room.]
We can't leave the matter thus.
FERRAND. [Suavely.] Do you desire my company, Monsieur?
[BERTLEY, with a prohibitive gesture of his hand, shepherds the
reluctant MRS. MEGAN into the model's room.]
WELLWYN. [Sorrowfully.] You shouldn't have done this, Ferrand. It
wasn't the square thing.
FERRAND. [With dignity.] Monsieur, I feel that I am in the wrong.
It was stronger than me.
[As he speaks, SIR THOMAS HOXTON and PROFESSOR CALWAY enter
from the house. In the dim light, and the full cry of
argument, they do not notice the figures at the fire. SIR
THOMAS HOXTON leads towards the street door.
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