Beatrice.  I meant to forget him again.  I did mean to.  I thought I could get back to what I was, when I married you; but, you see, what a girl can do, a woman that’s been married—­can’t.

Strangway.  Then it was I—­my kisses that——! [He laughs] How did you stand them? [His eyes dart at her face] Imagination helped you, perhaps!

Beatrice.  Michael, don’t, don’t!  And—­oh! don’t make a public thing of it!  You needn’t be afraid I shall have too good a time!

     [He stays quite still and silent, and that which is writhing in
     him makes his face so strange that Beatrice stands aghast.  At
     last she goes stumbling on in speech]

If ever you want to marry some one else—­then, of course—­that’s only fair, ruin or not.  But till then—­till then——­He’s leaving Durford, going to Brighton.  No one need know.  And you—­this isn’t the only parish in the world.

Strangway. [Quietly] You ask me to help you live in secret with another man?

Beatrice.  I ask for mercy.

Strangway. [As to himself] What am I to do?

Beatrice.  What you feel in the bottom of your heart.

Strangway.  You ask me to help you live in sin?

Beatrice.  To let me go out of your life.  You’ve only to do—­ nothing. [He goes, slowly, close to her.]

Strangway.  I want you.  Come back to me!  Beatrice, come back!

Beatrice.  It would be torture, now.

Strangway. [Writhing] Oh!

Beatrice.  Whatever’s in your heart—­do!

Strangway.  You’d come back to me sooner than ruin him?  Would you?

Beatrice.  I can’t bring him harm.

Strangway. [Turning away] God!—­if there be one help me! [He stands leaning his forehead against the window.  Suddenly his glance falls on the little bird cage, still lying on the window-seat] Never cage any wild thing! [He gives a laugh that is half a sob; then, turning to the door, says in a low voice] Go!  Go please, quickly!  Do what you will.  I won’t hurt you—­can’t——­But—­go! [He opens the door.]

Beatrice. [Greatly moved] Thank you!

[She passes him with her head down, and goes out quickly.  Strangway stands unconsciously tearing at the little bird-cage.  And while he tears at it he utters a moaning sound.  The terrified mercy, peering from behind the curtain, and watching her chance, slips to the still open door; but in her haste and fright she knocks against it, and Strangway sees her.  Before he can stop her she has fled out on to the green and away.]

     [While he stands there, paralysed, the door from the house is
     opened, and Mrs. Burlacombe approaches him in a queer, hushed
     way.]