FRANCES. [Her thoughts rushing now to the present—­the future.] Not!  Because of...?  Do people know?  Will they...?  You didn’t...?

      As mechanically as ever he has taken up COUSIN ROBERT’S letter and,
      in some sense, read it.  Now he recapitulates, meaninglessly, that his
      voice may just deaden her pain and his own.

TREBELL.  Robert says ... that we’ve not been to see them for some time ... but that now I’m a greater man than ever I must be very busy.  The vicarage has been painted and papered throughout and looks much fresher.  Mary sends you her love and hopes you have no return of the rheumatism.  And he would like to send me the proof sheets of his critical commentary on First Timothy ... for my alien eye might possibly detect some logical lapses.  Need he repeat to me his thankfulness at my new attitude upon Disestablishment ... or assure me again that I have his prayers.  Could we not go and stay there only for a few days?  Possibly his opinion—­

      She has borne this cruel kindness as long as she can and she breaks
      out....

FRANCES.  Oh ... don’t ... don’t!

      He falls from his seeming callousness to the very blankness of
      despair.

TREBELL.  No, we’ll leave that ... and the rest ... and everything.

      Her agony passes.

FRANCES.  What do you mean to do?

TREBELL.  There’s to be no public scandal.

FRANCES.  Why has Lord Horsham thrown you over then ... or hasn’t that anything to do with it?

TREBELL.  It has to do with it.

FRANCES. [Lifting her voice; some tone returning to it.] Unconsciously ... 
I’ve known for years that this sort of thing might happen to you.

TREBELL.  Why?

FRANCES.  Power over men and women and contempt for them!  Do you think they don’t take their revenge sooner or later?

TREBELL.  Much good may it do them!

FRANCES.  Human nature turns against you ... by instinct ... in self-defence.

TREBELL.  And my own human-nature!

FRANCES. [Shocked into great pity, by his half articulate pain.] Yes ... you must have loved her, Henry ... in some odd way.  I’m sorry for you both.

TREBELL.  I’m hating her now ... as a man can only hate his own silliest vices.

FRANCES. [Flashing into defence.] That’s wrong of you.  If you thought of her only as a pretty little fool....  Bearing your child ... all her womanly life belonged to you ... and for that time there was no other sort of life in her.  So she became what you thought her.

TREBELL.  That’s not true.

FRANCES.  It’s true enough ... it’s true of men towards women.  You can’t think of them through generations as one thing and then suddenly find them another.

TREBELL. [Hammering at his fixed idea.] She should have brought that child into the world.