a day and nothing to look forward to but the workhouse infirmary.  Don’t you be led astray by people who don’t know the world, my girl.  The only way for a woman to provide for herself decently is for her to be good to some man that can afford to be good to her.  If she’s in his own station of life, let her make him marry her; but if she’s far beneath him she can’t expect it:  why should she? it wouldn’t be for her own happiness.  Ask any lady in London society that has daughters; and she’ll tell you the same, except that I tell you straight and she’ll tell you crooked.  Thats all the difference.

VIVIE [fascinated, gazing at her] My dear mother:  you are a wonderful woman:  you are stronger than all England.  And are you really and truly not one wee bit doubtful—­or—­or—­ashamed?

MRS WARREN.  Well, of course, dearie, it’s only good manners to be ashamed of it:  it’s expected from a woman.  Women have to pretend to feel a great deal that they don’t feel.  Liz used to be angry with me for plumping out the truth about it.  She used to say that when every woman could learn enough from what was going on in the world before her eyes, there was no need to talk about it to her.  But then Liz was such a perfect lady!  She had the true instinct of it; while I was always a bit of a vulgarian.  I used to be so pleased when you sent me your photos to see that you were growing up like Liz:  you’ve just her ladylike, determined way.  But I can’t stand saying one thing when everyone knows I mean another.  Whats the use in such hypocrisy?  If people arrange the world that way for women, theres no good pretending it’s arranged the other way.  No:  I never was a bit ashamed really.  I consider I had a right to be proud of how we managed everything so respectably, and never had a word against us, and how the girls were so well taken care of.  Some of them did very well:  one of them married an ambassador.  But of course now I daren’t talk about such things:  whatever would they think of us! [She yawns].  Oh dear!  I do believe I’m getting sleepy after all. [She stretches herself lazily, thoroughly relieved by her explosion, and placidly ready for her night’s rest].

VIVIE.  I believe it is I who will not be able to sleep now. [She goes to the dresser and lights the candle.  Then she extinguishes the lamp, darkening the room a good deal].  Better let in some fresh air before locking up. [She opens the cottage door, and finds that it is broad moonlight].  What a beautiful night!  Look! [She draws the curtains of the window.  The landscape is seen bathed in the radiance of the harvest moon rising over Blackdown].

MRS WARREN [with a perfunctory glance at the scene] Yes, dear; but take care you don’t catch your death of cold from the night air.

VIVIE [contemptuously] Nonsense.

MRS WARREN [querulously] Oh yes:  everything I say is nonsense, according to you.

VIVIE [turning to her quickly] No:  really that is not so, mother.