Wellwyn.  I thought I saw her last night.  You can’t tell me her address, I suppose?

Bertley. [Shaking his head.] The husband too has quite passed out of my ken.  He betted on horses, you remember.  I’m sometimes tempted to believe there’s nothing for some of these poor folk but to pray for death.

     [Ann has entered from the house.  Her hair hangs from under a
     knitted cap.  She wears a white wool jersey, and a loose silk
     scarf.]

Bertley.  Ah!  Ann.  I was telling your father of that poor little Mrs. Megan.

Ann.  Is she dead?

Bertley.  Worse I fear.  By the way—­what became of her accomplice?

Ann.  We haven’t seen him since. [She looks searchingly at
Wellwyn.] At least—­have you—­Daddy?

Wellwyn. [Rather hurt.] No, my dear; I have not.

Bertley.  And the—­old gentleman who drank the rum?

Ann.  He got fourteen days.  It was the fifth time.

Bertley.  Dear me!

Ann.  When he came out he got more drunk than ever.  Rather a score for Professor Calway, wasn’t it?

Bertley.  I remember.  He and Sir Thomas took a kindly interest in the old fellow.

Ann.  Yes, they fell over him.  The Professor got him into an
Institution.

Bertley.  Indeed!

Ann.  He was perfectly sober all the time he was there.

Wellwyn.  My dear, they only allow them milk.

Ann.  Well, anyway, he was reformed.

Wellwyn.  Ye-yes!

Ann. [Terribly.] Daddy!  You’ve been seeing him!

Wellwyn. [With dignity.] My dear, I have not.

Ann.  How do you know, then?

Wellwyn.  Came across Sir Thomas on the Embankment yesterday; told me old Timso—­had been had up again for sitting down in front of a brewer’s dray.

Ann.  Why?

Wellwyn.  Well, you see, as soon as he came out of the what d’you call ’em, he got drunk for a week, and it left him in low spirits.

Bertley.  Do you mean he deliberately sat down, with the intention—­of—­er?

Wellwyn.  Said he was tired of life, but they didn’t believe him.

Ann.  Rather a score for Sir Thomas!  I suppose he’d told the
Professor?  What did he say?

Wellwyn.  Well, the Professor said [with a quick glance at Bertley] he felt there was nothing for some of these poor devils but a lethal chamber.

Bertley. [Shocked.] Did he really!

[He has not yet caught Wellwyn’ s glance.]

Wellwyn.  And Sir Thomas agreed.  Historic occasion.  And you, Vicar
H’m!

     [Bertley winces.]