ANN. [Preparing to go.] I'm going round now. But you must stay
here till the van comes back. And don't forget you tipped the men
after the first load.
WELLWYN. Oh! Yes, yes. [Uneasily.] Good sorts they look, those
fellows!
ANN. [Scrutinising him.] What have you done?
WELLWYN. Nothing, my dear, really----!
ANN. What?
WELLWYN. I--I rather think I may have tipped them twice.
ANN. [Drily.] Daddy! If it is the first of April, it's not
necessary to make a fool of oneself. That's the last time you ever
do these ridiculous things. [WELLWYN eyes her askance.] I'm going
to see that you spend your money on yourself. You needn't look at
me like that! I mean to. As soon as I've got you away from here,
and all--these----
WELLWYN. Don't rub it in, Ann!
ANN. [Giving him a sudden hug--then going to the door--with a sort
of triumph.] Deeds, not words, Daddy!
[She goes out, and the wind catching her scarf blows it out
beneath her firm young chin. WELLWYN returning to the fire,
stands brooding, and gazing at his extinct cigarette.]
WELLWYN. [To himself.] Bad lot--low type! No method! No theory!
[In the open doorway appear FERRAND and MRS. MEGAN. They
stand, unseen, looking at him. FERRAND is more ragged, if
possible, than on Christmas Eve. His chin and cheeks are
clothed in a reddish golden beard. MRS. MEGAN's dress is not
so woe-begone, but her face is white, her eyes dark-circled.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143