anything at all.
CLAUDE.
[_To_ MISS VERNON.] I wonder what I can tempt you with?
MISS VERNON.
I think I’ll have some fried sole.
CLAUDE.
That’s the beauty of the country. One does relish one’s breakfast,
doesn’t one?
[_He hands a plate to_ MISS VERNON, _and sits down with another for
himself. As he does this he takes the_ Times _from under his arm
and sits on it_.
MISS VERNON.
[_With a smile at his peculiarity._] Is there anything in the _Times_,
Claude?
CLAUDE.
I haven’t read it yet.
MRS. INSOLEY.
In some ways you’re much more of a Bainbridge than an Insoley, Claude.
My father used always to sit on the _Times_ so that no one should read
it before him.
CLAUDE.
I must say I don’t like to have my paper messed about by a lot of people
before I’ve had a chance of looking at it. Half the pleasure of reading
the _Times_ is reading it first. Besides, the _Morning Post_ and the
_Mail_ are on the sideboard for anyone who wants them.
EDITH LEWIS _comes in_.
EDITH.
Oh, I know I’m dreadfully late. Everybody’s going to scold me. And I’m
so sorry.
COBBETT.
[_Imitating_ MRS. INSOLEY.] When breakfast’s at ten o’clock I cannot
imagine why people shouldn’t be punctual.
EDITH.
[_Smiling._] Isn’t Grace down yet? [_To_ CLAUDE, _who rises to give her
something to eat_.] No, don’t bother. I’ll help myself.
MRS. INSOLEY.
When I was mistress of this house breakfast was served punctually at
eight o’clock every morning.
COBBETT.
[_Flippantly._] It must have seemed just like supper. Did you have it
the last thing before going to bed?
MRS. INSOLEY.
I made no exceptions. The day after my cousin James broke his neck in
the hunting-field and was brought to this very house on a stretcher, I
came down as the clock struck. And a very hearty breakfast I ate too.
COBBETT.
Perhaps he didn’t leave you anything.
MRS. INSOLEY.
[_With a chuckle._] On the contrary, he left me all his debts.
CENTER
_Enter_ GRACE.
GRACE.
Good morning.
MRS. INSOLEY.
Good afternoon, Grace.
GRACE.
Am I late? I think punctuality’s the most detestable of all the virtues.
MRS. INSOLEY.
It’s a royal virtue, my dear.
GRACE.
In that case, as a member of the middle classes, it’s not surprising
that I don’t practise it.
CLAUDE.
What can I get you, darling?
GRACE.
Is there anything nice to eat?
MRS. INSOLEY.
[_With a grim smile._] That is a matter of opinion.
CLAUDE.
There’s fried sole and eggs and bacon.
GRACE.
Oh, I don’t think I’ll have anything. I’ll just have some tea and
toast.
CLAUDE.
My dear, you’re not off your feed, are you?
MRS. INSOLEY.
Grace has probably been stuffing herself with bread and butter in her
room. I have no patience with the new-fangled custom of giving people
tea when they wake up. I never give it to my guests.
COBBETT.
Then don’t ask me to come and stay with you.
MRS. INSOLEY.
[_Delighted with the opportunity he has given her._] It may surprise
you, but I have no intention of doing so.
COBBETT.
[_Cheerfully._] There now. And I thought I’d made such an impression on
you, Mrs. Insoley.
MRS. INSOLEY.
That’s why I couldn’t risk asking you to stay with me. Perhaps at my age
I am safe from your blandishments, but Louisa is extremely susceptible.
MISS HALL.
Oh, Mrs. Insoley, how can you! Why, Mr. Cobbett must be ten years
younger than I am.
MRS. INSOLEY.
I should put it at fifteen.
COBBETT.
Don’t dash my hopes to the ground, Miss Hall. I was flattering myself
you didn’t look upon me altogether with indifference.
[ARCHIBALD INSOLEY _comes in from the garden_.
ARCHIBALD.
Ah, I thought I’d find you still at breakfast.
CLAUDE.
We’re a lazy lot. I suppose you’ve been up and about for the last two
hours.
GRACE.
[_Looking at him._] Is anything the matter?
ARCHIBALD.
Yes.
CLAUDE.
I thought you looked a bit odd.
ARCHIBALD.
A most awful thing has happened. I’ve only just heard of it.
CLAUDE.
[_Getting up from his chair._] What is it, old man?
[_By this time the breakfasters are disturbed; there is a certain
embarrassment about them; they are suffering from the awkwardness
people feel when they see some one in a condition of distress, but
do not suppose it has anything to do with themselves._
ARCHIBALD.
You’d better come along with me to the smoking-room.
GRACE.
It’s too late to make a secret of it, Archibald. You’d better tell us
all.
CLAUDE.
Fire away, old man.
ARCHIBALD.
[_After a moment’s hesitation._] Peggy Gann has killed herself.
[GRACE _springs to her feet with a cry_.
CLAUDE.
[_Looking at_ GRACE.] My God.
[GRACE _comes forward, horror on her face, and walks unsteadily to
a chair. She sinks into it and stares in front of her._
CLAUDE.
Why on earth did she do it?
GRACE.
How horrible!
CLAUDE.
[_Going up to her, about to put his hand on her shoulder._] Grace.
GRACE.
[_With a shiver._] Don’t touch me.
[_He stops and looks at her, puzzled and unhappy._
ARCHIBALD.
You’d better come along.
CLAUDE.
[_With his eyes on_ GRACE.] I feel I ought to do something. I don’t know
what to do.
ARCHIBALD.
I’m afraid there’s nothing much that can be done.
CLAUDE.
I’d better go and see Gann, hadn’t I?
MRS. INSOLEY.
Won’t you finish your breakfast before you go, Claude?
CLAUDE.
Oh, I can’t eat anything more.
[_He goes out with_ ARCHIBALD.
MISS HALL.
What a dreadful thing.
[GRACE _gets up and goes to the window_.
MRS. INSOLEY.
Where are you going, Grace?
GRACE.
[_Almost beside herself._] For heaven’s sake, leave me alone.
[_She stands with her back to the rest of the party, looking out of
the window. There is a little awkward pause._
MRS. INSOLEY.
Louisa, get me some of those devilled kidneys that Mr. Cobbett has been
making so much fuss about.
COBBETT.
Let me.
MRS. INSOLEY.
Louisa will get them. She likes to wait on me herself. Don’t you,
Louisa?
MISS HALL.
Yes, Mrs. Insoley.
[MISS VERNON _pushes back her chair_.
MRS. INSOLEY.
Have you finished, Helen?
MISS VERNON.
Yes.
MRS. INSOLEY.
You’ve eaten nothing.
MISS VERNON.
I couldn’t.
[MISS VERNON _looks as if she were going to speak to_ GRACE, _but
she changes her mind and merely sits down in another chair. Every
now and then she looks up at_ GRACE.
MRS. INSOLEY.
I cannot imagine why anyone should be upset because an abandoned hussy
has been so wicked as to destroy herself.
COBBETT.
Well, it hasn’t taken my appetite away, at all events.
MRS. INSOLEY.
If we were honest with ourselves, Mr. Cobbett, we should acknowledge
that nobody’s death is important enough to interfere with one’s
appetite.
MISS HALL.
Oh, Mrs. Insoley, how can you say such a thing?
MRS. INSOLEY.
Louisa, I’ve been like a mother to you for ten years. Would you eat one
potato less for your dinner if I were found dead in my bed to-morrow
morning?
MISS HALL.
[_Taking out her handkerchief._] Oh, yes, Mrs. Insoley. I really, really
would.
MRS. INSOLEY.
[_Touched._] You are a good girl, Louisa, and you may have that black
lace shawl of mine. If you mend it carefully, it’ll last you for years.
MISS HALL.
Oh, thank you, Mrs. Insoley. You are so kind to me.
EDITH.
D’you think I ought to offer to go away to-day? I was going to stay till
to-morrow.
COBBETT.
I was going to-day in any case. I’m due to stay with some people in
Wiltshire.
MRS. INSOLEY.
You seem to be in great demand.
COBBETT.
I have a very pleasant fund of small talk.
MRS. INSOLEY.
I’m afraid this is not an occasion upon which you’ll find it of any use.
[_There is a moment’s pause._
EDITH.
I’m going into the garden.
COBBETT.
Come on. I’m dying for a smoke.
[_She gets up and walks out through the French windows._ COBBETT
_follows her_.
MRS. INSOLEY.
[_Getting up from the table._] I think you should remember, my dear
Grace, that suicide is not only very wicked, but very cowardly. I have
no patience with the sentimentalities of the present day. Our fathers
buried people who were sinful enough to destroy themselves at the
cross-roads with a stake in their insides. And it served them right.
[GRACE _does not answer_. MRS. INSOLEY, _with a shrug of the
shoulders, walks out of the room, followed by_ MISS HALL. _As soon
as_ GRACE _hears the door shut she turns round with an exclamation,
half-smothered, of impatient anger_.
GRACE.
Oh, did you hear? They have the heart to chatter like that when that
unhappy girl is lying dead. They haven’t a word of pity. It seems to
mean nothing to them that she sacrificed herself. If she died, it was to
save her father, so that he shouldn’t be thrown out of work in his old
age. And they call her wicked and sinful.
MISS VERNON.
But is that anything new to you? Haven’t you noticed that people always
rather resent the heroism of others? They don’t like the claim it makes
on _them_, and the easiest way to defend themselves is with a sneer.
GRACE.
I might have saved her life if I’d chosen, but I hadn’t the courage.
MISS VERNON.
[_Afraid that she is going to blurt out a secret which had much better
not be referred to._] Grace, don’t be stupid.
GRACE.
Once I suspected what she was going to do, but she was too clever for
me. I so wanted to believe it was all right. I wanted her to go away
quietly.
MISS VERNON.
[_Trying to calm her._] Lots of women have been in difficulties before,
and they haven’t killed themselves. There must have been some kink in
her nature. I suppose the instinct of life wasn’t so strong as it is
with most of us, and--and she would have committed suicide for almost
any reason.
GRACE.
There was only one thing to say, and I didn’t say it. I couldn’t.
MISS VERNON.
My dear, for heaven’s sake pull yourself together.
GRACE.
D’you know why Claude was so determined she should go? Because he
couldn’t bear that _I_ should come in contact with a woman who’d done
wrong.
MISS VERNON.
[_Looking down._] I had an idea that was at the back of his mind.
GRACE.
[_With sudden suspicion._] Why should you know what Claude feels better
than I do?
MISS VERNON.
[_Fearing she has given herself away._] It was a mere guess on my part.
GRACE.
[_With a keen look at her._] When I asked you the other day whether
you’d been very much in love with Claude, you wouldn’t answer.
MISS VERNON.
[_Smiling._] I really thought it was no business of yours.
GRACE.
[_Gravely._] Are you in love with him still?
[MISS VERNON _is about to break out indignantly, but quickly
controls herself_.
MISS VERNON.
Yes, I suppose I am.
GRACE.
Much?
MISS VERNON.
_Hoarsely._] Yes.
[_There is a pause._
GRACE.
D’you know that my mother-in-law would give half her fortune to
know--what you know? She’s been on the look-out to trip me up for years.
It only wants a hint, and she can be trusted to make the most of it.
MISS VERNON.
My dear, I haven’t a notion what you’re talking about.
GRACE.
[_With a shrug of the shoulders._] How did you find out?
[MISS VERNON _looks at her for a moment, then looks away in
embarrassment_.
MISS VERNON.
I suspected before. In those circumstances hardly any men seem able to
help a sort of proprietary air. He rather gave it away, you know.... And
then yesterday I felt quite certain.
GRACE.
I’m in your hands. What are you going to do?
MISS VERNON.
My dear, what can I do? Claude wouldn’t love me more because he loved
you less.
GRACE.
You must utterly despise me.
MISS VERNON.
No.... I feel awfully sorry for Claude.
GRACE.
[_Almost jealously._] Claude’s your first thought always.
MISS VERNON.
He’s been the whole world to me since I was a girl of sixteen.
GRACE.
Is that why you never married?
MISS VERNON.
I suppose it is.
GRACE.
I never dreamt that anyone could care for Claude like that. I suppose
you see something in him that I’ve never seen.... He has a hundred
different ways of getting on my nerves.
MISS VERNON.
You see, I’m not irritated by the mannerisms that irritate you.
GRACE.
[_Reflectively._] Real love accepts them, I suppose.
MISS VERNON.
It wants them even because it’s something individual to cling to.... And
then it laughs at them a little, and the best love of all includes a
sense of humour.
GRACE.
It’s made me feel so strange to know that you love him, Helen. It’s
given him something that he’s never had before.
MISS VERNON.
I don’t suppose any woman likes her husband less because she knows that
another woman is eating her heart out for him.
GRACE.
[_Slowly._] I wonder if I’ve misjudged him all these years.... D’you
think I found him shallow because there was no depth in me, and narrow
because I was narrow myself.
[_Enter_ CLAUDE INSOLEY. GRACE _turns to him quickly_.
GRACE.
Did you see Gann?
CLAUDE.
[_Touching the bell._] No, he wasn’t at the cottage. I’ve sent for him
and told him to come here.
GRACE.
They know where he is then?
CLAUDE.
Yes, worse luck. He’s been soaking at the public-house since it opened.
MISS VERNON.
But when did it happen?
CLAUDE.
Peggy, d’you mean? She did it last night.
GRACE.
Last night? But why have we only just heard of it?
CLAUDE.
[_Deeply discouraged._] Because they don’t come to us any more when
they’re in trouble. They keep it to themselves.
[MOORE _answers the bell_.
CLAUDE.
Oh, Moore, when Gann comes let me know. I’ll come and see him at once.
MOORE.
He’s here now, sir.
CLAUDE.
Is he? I didn’t expect him yet. All right.
GRACE.
Won’t you let him come here, Claude? I should like to speak to him too.
CLAUDE.
I don’t think you’d better see him if he’s been drinking. He may be
going to make himself rather objectionable.
GRACE.
I must say to him what I’ve got on my heart, Claude.
CLAUDE.
Very well. [_To_ MOORE.] Tell Gann to come here.
MOORE.
Very good, sir.
[_Exit._
MISS VERNON.
I dare say you’d like me to leave you.
GRACE.
You don’t mind, do you?
[_With a shake of the head and a smile_ MISS VERNON _goes out_.
CLAUDE _looks a little uncertainly at his wife. He seeks for
something to say._
CLAUDE.
What a nice woman that is! I can’t imagine why Archibald doesn’t hurry
up and marry her.
GRACE.
Perhaps he’s not in love with her.
CLAUDE.
Any man in his senses would be in love with her.
[GRACE _does not answer, but she gives him a curious glance_. MOORE
_opens the door to show_ GANN _in_. GANN _is dishevelled and
untidy, his face haggard and drawn. He is not exactly drunk, but he
is stupefied, partly with liquor and partly with grief. He carries
his gun. He comes in, his cap on his head, and stands clumsily near
the door._
CLAUDE.
Take off your cap, Gann.
[GANN _looks at him unsteadily and slowly takes off his cap_.
GANN.
Did you want to speak to me, Squire?
CLAUDE.
I’ve just been round to your cottage, Gann. I saw Peggy.... I want to
tell you how awfully sorry I am for what’s happened. I can never forgive
myself.
[GANN _steps forward with a lurch and faces_ CLAUDE.
GANN.
What d’you want me for? Couldn’t you let me be? D’you still want me to
go?
CLAUDE.
No. That’s what I wanted to tell you.
GANN.
Give us time and we’ll clear. We don’t want long. Give us time to bury
the girl. That’s all we want.
[GRACE _gives an exclamation of horror_.
CLAUDE.
I hope you’ll stay. I want to do everything I can to make up for your
loss. I want you to know that I blame myself most awfully.
GANN.
Will that bring ’er back to life, d’you think?
CLAUDE.
I’d give anything for this horrible accident not to have happened.
[_With a look at Grace._] I’m afraid it’s my fault.
GANN.
She killed ’erself so as I shouldn’t be turned off. That’s why she
killed ’erself. You’re a hard master--you always was. She thought it was
the only way to save me from the work’us.
CLAUDE.
[_Very awkwardly._] In future I’ll try to be different. I didn’t think I
was hard. I thought I was only just.
GRACE.
It was a cruel rule.
CLAUDE.
I thought I was only doing my duty.
GANN.
She was a good girl, after all, Squire, a good girl.
CLAUDE.
I’m sure she was.
GANN.
It’s easy enough for you people to keep straight. You don’t ’ave
temptations like we ’ave.
CLAUDE.
No, that’s true enough. I suppose it’s not really very hard for us to be
moderately decent.
GRACE.
[_In a choking voice._] Where is the child now, Gann?
GANN.
[_Violently._] D’you want that too? Ain’t you satisfied yet? Has the
child got to go before I stay?
GRACE.
No, no. I only wanted to know if there was anything I could do. I wanted
to help you.
GANN.
I don’t want your ’elp. I only want you to let me work and earn my
wages.
CLAUDE.
That you shall do, I promise you.
GANN.
Can I go now? I’ve got a deal to do this morning.
CLAUDE.
Yes.... Will you shake hands with me before you go?
GANN.
What good’ll that do you?
[CLAUDE _gives a gesture of discouragement_.
CLAUDE.
I can only repeat that I’m most awfully sorry. I’m afraid there’s
absolutely nothing I can do to make up for your great loss.... You can
go now.
[GANN _turns to go, while_ CLAUDE _and_ GRACE _watch him silently.
Suddenly he comes back and thrusts his gun into_ CLAUDE’S _hand_.
GANN.
Look ’ere, Squire, you take my gun. I ain’t fit to keep it.
CLAUDE.
[_Sharply._] What the devil d’you mean?
GANN.
Last night when the liquor was in me I swore I’d blow your brains out
and swing for it. Don’t let me ’ave the gun. I’m not fit to keep it yet.
If I get on the drink again I’ll kill you.
CLAUDE.
What the dickens d’you mean by speaking to me like that! Of course you
must have your gun. I can’t allow you to neglect your work.
GRACE.
[_Almost in a whisper._] Claude, take care.
CLAUDE.
[_Looking at the lock._] Why isn’t it loaded?
GANN.
They took the cartridges out. I was about mad, and I don’t know what I
said. If I’d come across you then--you wouldn’t be standing where you
are now.
CLAUDE.
I suppose you take eights?
[GRACE _and_ GANN _both look at him_. GRACE _gives a start when she
realises what he is going to do_.
GANN.
That’s right.
[CLAUDE _nods and goes to the door. He hesitates, with a look at_
GRACE.
GRACE.
I shall be all right.
[_He goes out. In a moment he comes back with two cartridges. He
puts them in the gun, and hands it back to the gamekeeper._
CLAUDE.
Here you are. I don’t think I’m afraid. I’ll take my chance of your
wanting to shoot me.
[GANN _takes the gun, and his hands close round it convulsively. He
half raises it._ CLAUDE _goes to the door through which he has just
come, and closes it. Then, almost mastered by the temptation_, GANN
_pulls himself together and advances a step towards his master_.
GRACE _gives a stifled cry_. CLAUDE _turns round and faces the
man_.
CLAUDE.
That’ll do, Gann. I don’t think I have anything more to say to you. You
can go.
[GANN _struggles to command himself. His fingers itch to shoot,
but_ CLAUDE’S _unconcern prevents him_.
GANN.
By God!
[_He turns round to go, and flings the gun violently from him._
CLAUDE.
[_Peremptorily._] Gann, take your gun.
[_The man stops, looks at his master, and then, cowed, picks it up.
He lurches heavily out of the room. There is a pause._ GRACE _draws
a long breath_.
GRACE.
I’m glad you did that, Claude.
CLAUDE.
[_Thinking she refers to his attempts at apology._] It was very
difficult to know what to say to him.
GRACE.
I didn’t mean that. I meant, I’m glad you made him take the gun.
CLAUDE.
Oh! Hang it all, you didn’t think I was likely to be frightened of one
of my own servants, did you?
GRACE.
[_In a low voice._] I was rather afraid he was going to shoot you.
CLAUDE.
So was I. But I felt pretty sure he saw two of me, and I thought he’d
probably shoot at the wrong one.
GRACE.
You’re very plucky.
CLAUDE.
Rot! [_He hesitates for a moment._] Grace, I’m afraid you think I’ve
been an awful skunk.
GRACE.
[_With a quick look at him._] We none of us knew anything like this was
going to happen.
CLAUDE.
Will you forgive me?
GRACE.
[_Startled._] I?
CLAUDE.
I’ve been feeling such an awful cad. If I’d only done what you wanted me
to, this wouldn’t have happened.
GRACE.
That’s not _your_ fault. I didn’t say--what I should have said to make
you change your mind.
CLAUDE.
It rather put my back up that you should be so set on letting Peggy
stay. But it struck me afterwards, of course you couldn’t feel the same
about it as I did. I think if one’s awfully straight, one’s full of
charity, don’t you know.
GRACE.
My dear Claude, you talk as if I were a girl of eighteen.
CLAUDE.
I don’t suppose you remember, but when Archibald told us, I wanted to
say something to you....
GRACE.
Yes, your first thought was for me, wasn’t it?
CLAUDE.
[_Going on._] And I came near you. And--and you sort of shuddered, and
said: “For God’s sake, don’t touch me!”
GRACE.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be unkind.
CLAUDE.
No, I know you didn’t. It just came out unawares. And--oh, Grace, I
couldn’t bear to think you--you couldn’t stick me, don’t you know.... I
suppose I’m a damned fool, but I haven’t made you hate and loathe me,
have I?
GRACE.
I’m not worth so much troubling about, Claude.
CLAUDE.
I can’t help it. You’ve just somehow got in my blood and bones, and if
it didn’t sound such drivel, I’d say you meant everything in the world
to me. Only you just laugh at me when I say things like that.
GRACE.
[_Explaining to herself rather than to him._] It’s very hard for all of
us to say what we mean. The words we use are so frayed. One ought to
guess at--at the soul within them.
CLAUDE.
I’ve been trying to think about Gann and his daughter, but I can’t
really think of anything but you.
GRACE.
You know, Claude, no one’s so wonderful as you think me. I’m no longer
so young as all that, and you’re the only person who ever thought me
very pretty.
CLAUDE.
I don’t mind. Sometimes, so that my love should mean more to you, don’t
you know, I’ve wanted you to get older quickly, and I’ve wanted you to
be plain.
GRACE.
[_With a little hysterical laugh._] Oh, my dear, what a horrible
prospect.
CLAUDE.
Don’t laugh at me now, Grace.
GRACE.
[_With tears in her voice._] I’m not laughing at you. God knows I’m not
laughing at you.
CLAUDE.
I’m such an ass at explaining myself. What I want to make you understand
is that I don’t love you for anything that other people could love you
for. I love you because you’re you, don’t you know. Because you’re so
awfully good and straight. And you know I respect you so awfully.
GRACE.
[_In a hoarse voice._] I’m not good, Claude.
CLAUDE.
If I didn’t believe it, I should think the world a pretty rotten place.
GRACE.
I haven’t been the sort of wife you wanted. I felt that always.
CLAUDE.
You’ve been the only woman in the world for me. Always.
GRACE.
[_Deeply moved._] Not many women can say that, can they? One ought to be
very grateful.
CLAUDE.
D’you remember the first time I ever saw you?
GRACE.
[_Looking away from him._] I wonder you didn’t marry Helen Vernon years
before you came across me.
CLAUDE.
Hang it all, why on earth should I have done that!
GRACE.
Your mother was very anxious that you should.
CLAUDE.
I was just as little in love with Helen Vernon as she was in love with
me.
GRACE.
I can’t help seeing that she would have made you a much better wife than
I have. She would have understood you. I don’t think I ever understood
you. I’ve been a wretched failure, Claude.
CLAUDE.
Darling, how can you talk such rot?
GRACE.
She might have had children. You wanted them so much, Claude, and I
haven’t given you any.
CLAUDE.
That’s been hard luck on both of us, darling.
GRACE.
[_With deep feeling._] It might have made all the difference.
CLAUDE.
If I wanted children it was chiefly because I thought you’d be happier.
You wouldn’t have minded the dull life down here then. And you might
have cared a bit more for me because I was their father.
GRACE.
It all comes back to me, doesn’t it? I’m in all your thoughts always.
CLAUDE.
D’you mind?
GRACE.
I’m so ashamed.
[ARCHIBALD _comes in from the hall_.
ARCHIBALD.
Oh, Claude, I met the coroner’s officer on my way along here. He wants
to see you.
CLAUDE.
All right. I’ll come. Is he in the hall?
ARCHIBALD.
[_With a nod._] I told him you knew nothing more than I’d said. But I’m
afraid they’ll call you at the inquest.
CLAUDE.
The only thing’s to grin and bear it.
[_They go out._ GRACE _sinks into a chair at the writing-table and
buries her face in her hands. In a moment_ HENRY COBBETT _enters.
She starts up when she hears his footstep on the gravel. He has his
hat in his hand and his coat over his arm._
COBBETT.
I’m just starting. I was looking for you to say good-bye.
GRACE.
Is it time for you to go already? I didn’t know it was late.
COBBETT.
Thanks awfully for putting me up. It’s been perfectly topping.
GRACE.
It was nice of you to come. I hope you’ll run down again one of these
days.
COBBETT.
[_In a lower tone._] I suppose you never want to set eyes on me again.
GRACE.
Never.
COBBETT.
You’re not awfully unhappy, are you?
GRACE.
[_With something between a sob and a chuckle._] Awfully.
COBBETT.
I’m dreadfully sorry.
GRACE.
That doesn’t do me much good, does it?
COBBETT.