WELLWYN. Look here! She--slipped. She's been telling me. Come,
Constable, there's a good fellow. May be the making of her, this.
CONSTABLE. I quite appreciate your good 'eart, sir, an' you make it
very 'ard for me--but, come now! I put it to you as a gentleman,
would you go back on yer duty if you was me?
[WELLWYN raises his hat, and plunges his fingers through and
through his hair.]
WELLWYN. Well! God in heaven! Of all the d---d topsy--turvy--!
Not a soul in the world wants her alive--and now she's to be
prosecuted for trying to be where everyone wishes her.
CONSTABLE. Come, sir, come! Be a man!
[Throughout all this MRS. MEGAN has sat stolidly before the
fire, but as FERRAND suddenly steps forward she looks up at
him.]
FERRAND. Do not grieve, Monsieur! This will give her courage.
There is nothing that gives more courage than to see the irony of
things. [He touches MRS. MEGAN'S shoulder.] Go, my child; it will
do you good.
[MRS. MEGAN rises, and looks at him dazedly.]
CONSTABLE. [Coming forward, and taking her by the hand.] That's my
good lass.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97