WEDGECROFT. Horsham has gone. He thought perhaps you'd be staying with Miss
Trebell for a bit.
MRS. FARRANT. Yes, I shall be.
WEDGECROFT. I must go too ... it's nearly eleven.
FRANCES. To the other inquest?
_This stirs her two listeners to something of a shudder._
WEDGECROFT. Yes.
MRS. FARRANT. [_In a low voice._] It will make no difference now ... I mean
... still nothing need come out? We needn't know why he ... why he did it.
WEDGECROFT. When he talked to me last night, and I didn't know what he was
talking of....
FRANCES. He was waiting this morning for Lord Horsham's note....
MRS. FARRANT. [_In real alarm._] Oh, it wasn't because of the Cabinet
trouble ... you must persuade Cyril Horsham of that. You haven't told him
... he's so dreadfully upset as it is. I've been swearing it had nothing to
do with that.
WEDGECROFT. [_Cutting her short, bitingly._] Has a time ever come to you
when it was easier to die than to go on living? Oh ... I told Lord Horsham
just what I thought.
_He leaves them, his men grief unexpressed._
FRANCES. [_Listlessly._] Does it matter why?
MRS. FARRANT. Need there be more suffering and reproaches? It's not as if
even grief would do any good. [_Suddenly with nervous caution._] Walter, you
don't know, do you?
WALTER _throws up his tear-marked face and a man's anger banishes the
boyish grief._
WALTER. No, I don't know why he did it ... and I don't care. And grief is
no use. I'm angry ... just angry at the waste of a good man. Look at the
work undone ... think of it! Who is to do it! Oh ... the waste...!