[Mazed.] It's warm!
[She gives them all a last half-smiling look, and Passes with
the CONSTABLE through the doorway.]
FERRAND. That makes the third of us, Monsieur. We are not in luck.
To wish us dead, it seems, is easier than to let us die.
[He looks at ANN, who is standing with her eyes fixed on her
father. WELLWYN has taken from his pocket a visiting card.]
WELLWYN. [To FERRAND.] Here quick; take this, run after her! When
they've done with her tell her to come to us.
FERRAND. [Taking the card, and reading the address.] "No. 7, Haven
House, Flight Street!" Rely on me, Monsieur--I will bring her
myself to call on you. 'Au revoir, mon bon Monsieur'!
[He bends over WELLWYN's hand; then, with a bow to ANN goes
out; his tattered figure can be seen through the window,
passing in the wind. WELLWYN turns back to the fire. The
figure of TIMSON advances into the doorway, no longer holding
in either hand a waterproof leg-piece.]
TIMSON. [In a croaky voice.] Sir!
WELLWYN. What--you, Timson?
TIMSON. On me larst legs, sir. 'Ere! You can see 'em for yerself!
Shawn't trouble yer long....
WELLWYN. [After a long and desperate stare.] Not now--TIMSON not
now! Take this! [He takes out another card, and hands it to
TIMSON] Some other time.
TIMSON. [Taking the card.] Yer new address! You are a gen'leman.
[He lurches slowly away.]
[ANN shuts the street door and sets her back against it.
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