MRS. FARRANT.  I wish that he had demanded much of any woman.

FRANCES.  You know how this misery began?  That poor little wretch ... she’s lying dead too.  They’re both dead together now.  Do you think they’ve met...?

      JULIA grips both her hands and speaks very steadily to help her
      friend back to self control.

MRS. FARRANT.  George told me as soon as he was told.  I tried to make him understand my opinion, but he thought I was only shocked.

FRANCES.  I was sorry for her.  Now I can’t forgive her either.

MRS. FARRANT. [Angry, remorseful, rebellious.] When will men learn to know one woman from another?

FRANCES. [With answering bitterness.] When will all women care to be one thing rather than the other?

They are stopped by the sound of the opening of KENT’S door. WALTER comes from his room, some papers from his table held listlessly in one hand.  He is crying, undisguisedly, with a child’s grief.

KENT.  Oh ... am I in your way...?

FRANCES.  I didn’t know you were still here, Walter.

KENT.  I’ve been going through the letters as usual.  I don’t know why, I’m sure.  They won’t have to be answered now ... will they?

      WEDGECROFT comes back, grave and tense.

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...!