[He points at Timson, who seems falling asleep.]

Megan.  Naow!

     [Unseen by anybody, Ann has returned.]

Bertley.  Well, then, my boy?

Megan.  I seen ’em meself.

Bertley.  Gracious!  But just now you were will——­

Megan. [Sardonically.] There wasn’t nothing against me honour, then.  Now you’ve took it away between you, cumin’ aht with it like this.  I don’t want no more of ’er, and I’ll want a good deal more of ’im; as ’e’ll soon find.

     [He jerks his chin at Ferrand, turns slowly on his heel, and
     goes out into the street.]

     [There follows a profound silence.]

Ann.  What did I say, Daddy?  Utter!  All three.

     [Suddenly alive to her presence, they all turn.]

Timson. [Waking up and looking round him.] Well, p’raps I’d better go.

     [Assisted by Wellwyn he lurches gingerly off the dais towards
     the door, which Wellwyn holds open for him.]

Timson. [Mechanically.] Where to, sir?

     [Receiving no answer he passes out, touching his hat; and the
     door is closed.]

Wellwyn.  Ann!

     [Ann goes back whence she came.]

     [Bertley, steadily regarding Mrs. Megan, who has put her arm up
     in front of her face, beckons to Ferrand, and the young man
     comes gravely forward.]

Bertley.  Young people, this is very dreadful. [Mrs. Megan lowers her arm a little, and looks at him over it.] Very sad!

Mrs. Megan. [Dropping her arm.] Megan’s no better than what I am.

Bertley.  Come, come!  Here’s your home broken up! [Mrs. Megan Smiles.  Shaking his head gravely.] Surely-surely-you mustn’t smile. [Mrs. Megan becomes tragic.] That’s better.  Now, what is to be done?

Ferrand.  Believe me, Monsieur, I greatly regret.

Bertley.  I’m glad to hear it.

Ferrand.  If I had foreseen this disaster.

Bertley.  Is that your only reason for regret?

Ferrand. [With a little bow.] Any reason that you wish, Monsieur. 
I will do my possible.

Mrs. Megan.  I could get an unfurnished room if [she slides her eyes round at Wellwyn] I ’ad the money to furnish it.

Bertley.  But suppose I can induce your husband to forgive you, and take you back?

Mrs. Megan. [Shaking her head.] ’E’d ’it me.

Bertley.  I said to forgive.

Mrs. Megan.  That wouldn’t make no difference. [With a flash at
Bertley.] An’ I ain’t forgiven him!

Bertley.  That is sinful.