Mrs. Megan.  I’m a Catholic.

Bertley.  My good child, what difference does that make?

Ferrand.  Monsieur, if I might interpret for her.

     [Bertley silences him with a gesture.]

Mrs. Megan. [Sliding her eyes towards Wellwyn.] If I ’ad the money to buy some fresh stock.

Bertley.  Yes; yes; never mind the money.  What I want to find in you both, is repentance.

Mrs. Megan. [With a flash up at him.] I can’t get me livin’ off of repentin’.

Bertley.  Now, now!  Never say what you know to be wrong.

Ferrand.  Monsieur, her soul is very simple.

Bertley. [Severely.] I do not know, sir, that we shall get any great assistance from your views.  In fact, one thing is clear to me, she must discontinue your acquaintanceship at once.

Ferrand.  Certainly, Monsieur.  We have no serious intentions.

Bertley.  All the more shame to you, then!

Ferrand.  Monsieur, I see perfectly your point of view.  It is very natural. [He bows and is silent.]

Mrs. Megan.  I don’t want’im hurt’cos o’ me.  Megan’ll get his mates to belt him—­bein’ foreign like he is.

Bertley.  Yes, never mind that.  It’s you I’m thinking of.

Mrs. Megan.  I’d sooner they’d hit me.

Wellwyn. [Suddenly.] Well said, my child!

Mrs. Megan.  ’Twasn’t his fault.

Ferrand. [Without irony—­to Wellwyn.] I cannot accept that
Monsieur.  The blame—­it is all mine.

Ann. [Entering suddenly from the house.] Daddy, they’re having an awful——!

     [The voices of professor Calway and sir Thomas Hoxton are
     distinctly heard.]

Calway.  The question is a much wider one, Sir Thomas.

Hoxton.  As wide as you like, you’ll never——­

     [Wellwyn pushes Ann back into the house and closes the door
     behind her.  The voices are still faintly heard arguing on the
     threshold.]

Bertley.  Let me go in here a minute, Wellyn.  I must finish speaking to her. [He motions Mrs. Megan towards the model’s room.] We can’t leave the matter thus.

Ferrand. [Suavely.] Do you desire my company, Monsieur?

     [Bertley, with a prohibitive gesture of his hand, shepherds the
     reluctant Mrs. Megan into the model’s room.]

Wellwyn. [Sorrowfully.] You shouldn’t have done this, Ferrand.  It wasn’t the square thing.

Ferrand. [With dignity.] Monsieur, I feel that I am in the wrong.  It was stronger than me.