Her hair hangs from under a
knitted cap. She wears a white wool jersey, and a loose silk
scarf.]
BERTLEY. Ah! Ann. I was telling your father of that poor little
Mrs. Megan.
ANN. Is she dead?
BERTLEY. Worse I fear. By the way--what became of her accomplice?
ANN. We haven't seen him since. [She looks searchingly at
WELLWYN.] At least--have you--Daddy?
WELLWYN. [Rather hurt.] No, my dear; I have not.
BERTLEY. And the--old gentleman who drank the rum?
ANN. He got fourteen days. It was the fifth time.
BERTLEY. Dear me!
ANN. When he came out he got more drunk than ever. Rather a score
for Professor Calway, wasn't it?
BERTLEY. I remember. He and Sir Thomas took a kindly interest in
the old fellow.
ANN. Yes, they fell over him. The Professor got him into an
Institution.
BERTLEY. Indeed!
ANN. He was perfectly sober all the time he was there.
WELLWYN. My dear, they only allow them milk.
ANN. Well, anyway, he was reformed.
WELLWYN. Ye-yes!
ANN. [Terribly.] Daddy! You've been seeing him!
WELLWYN. [With dignity.] My dear, I have not.
ANN. How do you know, then?
WELLWYN. Came across Sir Thomas on the Embankment yesterday; told
me old Timso--had been had up again for sitting down in front of a
brewer's dray.
ANN. Why?
WELLWYN. Well, you see, as soon as he came out of the what d'you
call 'em, he got drunk for a week, and it left him in low spirits.
BERTLEY.
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