Extraordinary old lady! [He pitches away his cigarette.] What’s the matter with her, Molly?

Mrs. Gwyn, [With an effort.] Oh!  Peachey’s a character!

Lever. [Frowning.] So I see! [There is a silence.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  Maurice!

Lever.  Yes.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Aunt Nell’s hopeless, you mustn’t mind her.

Lever. [In a dubious and ironic voice.] My dear girl, I ’ve too much to bother me to mind trifles like that.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Going to him suddenly.] Tell me, won’t you?

     [Lever shrugs his shoulders.]

A month ago you’d have told me soon enough!

Lever.  Now, Molly!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Ah! [With a bitter smile.] The Spring’s soon over.

Lever.  It ’s always Spring between us.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Is it?

Lever.  You did n’t tell me what you were thinking about just now when you sat there like stone.

Mrs. Gwyn.  It does n’t do for a woman to say too much.

Lever.  Have I been so bad to you that you need feel like that,
Molly?

Mrs. Gwyn. [With a little warm squeeze of his arm.] Oh! my dear, it’s only that I’m so—–­

[She stops.]

Lever. [Gently].  So what?

Mrs. Gwyn. [In a low voice.] It’s hateful here.

Lever.  I didn’t want to come.  I don’t understand why you suggested it. [Mrs. Gwyn is silent.] It’s been a mistake.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Her eyes fixed on the ground.] Joy comes home to-morrow.  I thought if I brought you here—­I should know——­

Lever. [Vexedly.] Um!

Mrs. Gwyn. [Losing her control.] Can’t you see?  It haunts me?  How are we to go on?  I must know—­I must know!

Lever.  I don’t see that my coming——­

Mrs. Gwyn.  I thought I should have more confidence; I thought I should be able to face it better in London, if you came down here openly—­and now—­I feel I must n’t speak or look at you.

Lever.  You don’t think your Aunt——­

Mrs. Gwyn. [Scornfully.] She!  It’s only Joy I care about.

Lever. [Frowning.] We must be more careful, that’s all.  We mustn’t give ourselves away again, as we were doing just now.

Mrs. Gwyn.  When any one says anything horrid to you, I can’t help it.

     [She puts her hand on the label of his coat.]

Lever.  My dear child, take care!

     [Mrs. Gwyn drops her hand.  She throws her head back, and her
     throat is seen to work as though she were gulping down a bitter
     draught.  She moves away.]