Bill.  I know all that, thanks.

Lady Cheshire.  Nobody does till they’ve been through it.  Marriage is hard enough when people are of the same class. [With a sudden movement towards him] Oh! my dear-before it’s too late!

Bill. [After a struggle] It’s no good.

Lady Cheshire.  It’s not fair to her.  It can only end in her misery.

Bill.  Leave that to me, please.

Lady Cheshire. [With an almost angry vehemence] Only the very finest can do such things.  And you don’t even know what trouble’s like.

Bill.  Drop it, please, mother.

Lady Cheshire.  Bill, on your word of honour, are you acting of your own free will?

Bill. [Breaking away from her] I can’t stand any more.
     [He goes out into the workroom.]

Lady Cheshire.  What in God’s name shall I do?

     In her distress she walks up and doom the room, then goes to the
     workroom door, and opens it.

Lady Cheshire.  Come in here, please, Freda.

     After a seconds pause, Freda, white and trembling, appears in
     the doorway, followed by Bill.

Lady Cheshire.  No, Bill.  I want to speak to her alone.

     Bill, does not move.

Lady Cheshire. [Icily] I must ask you to leave us.

     Bill hesitates; then shrugging his shoulders, he touches FREDA’s
     arms, and goes back into the workroom, closing the door.  There
     is silence.

Lady Cheshire.  How did it come about?

Freda.  I don’t know, my lady.

Lady Cheshire.  For heaven’s sake, child, don’t call me that again, whatever happens. [She walks to the window, and speaks from there] I know well enough how love comes.  I don’t blame you.  Don’t cry.  But, you see, it’s my eldest son. [Freda puts her hand to her breast] Yes, I know.  Women always get the worst of these things.  That’s natural.  But it’s not only you is it?  Does any one guess?

Freda.  No.

Lady Cheshire.  Not even your father? [Freda shakes her head] There’s nothing more dreadful than for a woman to hang like a stone round a man’s neck.  How far has it gone?  Tell me!

Freda.  I can’t.

Lady Cheshire.  Come!

Freda.  I—­won’t.

Lady Cheshire. [Smiling painfully].  Won’t give him away?  Both of you the same.  What’s the use of that with me?  Look at me!  Wasn’t he with you when you went for your holiday this summer?

Freda.  He’s—­always—­behaved—­like—­a—­gentleman.

Lady Cheshire.  Like a man you mean!