Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  And listenin’ to him upset me. [She signs with her head at Ferrand.] I feel better now I’ve been in the water. [She smiles and shivers.]

Wellwyn.  There, there!  Shivery?  Like to walk up and down a little?

     [They begin walking together up and down.]

Wellwyn.  Beastly when your head goes under?

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  It frightened me.  I thought I wouldn’t come up again.

Wellwyn.  I know—­sort of world without end, wasn’t it?  What did you think of, um?

Mrs. Megan.  I wished I ‘adn’t jumped—­an’ I thought of my baby—­ that died—­and—­[in a rather surprised voice] and I thought of d-dancin’.

     [Her mouth quivers, her face puckers, she gives a choke and a
     little sob.]

Wellwyn. [Stopping and stroking her.] There, there—­there!

     [For a moment her face is buried in his sleeve, then she
     recovers herself.]

Mrs. Megan.  Then ‘e got hold o’ me, an’ pulled me out.

Wellwyn.  Ah! what a comfort—­um?

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  The water got into me mouth.

     [They walk again.] I wouldn’t have gone to do it but for him.
     [She looks towards Ferrand.] His talk made me feel all funny,
     as if people wanted me to.

Wellwyn.  My dear child!  Don’t think such things!  As if anyone would——!

Mrs. Megan. [Stolidly.] I thought they did.  They used to look at me so sometimes, where I was before I ran away—­I couldn’t stop there, you know.

Wellwyn.  Too cooped-up?

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  No life at all, it wasn’t—­not after sellin’ flowers, I’d rather be doin’ what I am.

Wellwyn.  Ah!  Well-it’s all over, now!  How d’you feel—­eh?  Better?

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  I feels all right now.

     [She sits up again on the little stool before the fire.]

Wellwyn.  No shivers, and no aches; quite comfy?

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.

Wellwyn.  That’s a blessing.  All well, now, Constable—­thank you!

Constable. [Who has remained discreetly apart at the door-cordially.] First rate, sir!  That’s capital! [He approaches and scrutinises Mrs. Megan.] Right as rain, eh, my girl?

Mrs. Megan. [Shrinking a little.] Yes.

Constable.  That’s fine.  Then I think perhaps, for ’er sake, sir, the sooner we move on and get her a change o’ clothin’, the better.

Wellwyn.  Oh! don’t bother about that—­I’ll send round for my daughter—­we’ll manage for her here.

Constable.  Very kind of you, I’m sure, sir.  But [with embarrassment] she seems all right.  She’ll get every attention at the station.