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.
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