Mrs. Gwyn.  Oh yes, I know—­but—­but Uncle Tom is such a dear!

Lever. [Stubbornly.] I can’t help his being the sort of man he is.  I did n’t want him to take these shares; I told him so in so many words.  Put yourself in my place, Molly:  how can I go to him and say, “This thing may turn out rotten,” when he knows I got you to put your money into it?

     [But joy, the lost shadow, has come back.  She moves forward
     resolutely.  They are divided from her by the hollow tree; she
     is unseen.  She stops.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  I think he ought to be told about the selling; it ’s not fair.

Lever.  What on earth made him rush at the thing like that?  I don’t understand that kind of man.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Impulsively.] I must tell him, Maurice; I can’t let him take the shares without——­

     [She puts her hand on his arm.]

     [Joy turns, as if to go back whence she came, but stops once
     more.]

Lever. [Slowly and very quietly.] I did n’t think you’d give me away, Molly.

Mrs. Gwyn.  I don’t think I quite understand.

Lever.  If you tell the Colonel about this sale the poor old chap will think me a man that you ought to have nothing to do with.  Do you want that?

     [Mrs. Gwyn, giving her lover a long look, touches his sleeve. 
     Joy, slipping behind the hollow tree, has gone.]

You can’t act in a case like this as if you ’d only a principle to consider.  It ’s the—­the special circumstances.

Mrs. Gwyn. [With a faint smile.] But you’ll be glad to get the money won’t you?

Lever.  By George! if you’re going to take it like this, Molly

Mrs. Gwyn.  Don’t!

Lever.  We may not sell after all, dear, we may find it turn out trumps.

Mrs. Gwyn. [With a shiver.] I don’t want to hear any more.  I know women don’t understand. [Impulsively.] It’s only that I can’t bear any one should think that you——­

Lever. [Distressed.] For goodness sake don’t look like that, Molly!  Of course, I’ll speak to your Uncle.  I’ll stop him somehow, even if I have to make a fool of myself.  I ’ll do anything you want——­

Mrs. Gwyn.  I feel as if I were being smothered here.

Lever.  It ’s only for one day.

Mrs. Gwyn. [With sudden tenderness.] It’s not your fault, dear.  I ought to have known how it would be.  Well, let’s go in!

[She sets her lips, and walks towards the house with lever following.  But no sooner has she disappeared than joy comes running after; she stops, as though throwing down a challenge.  Her cheeks and ears are burning.]

Joy.  Mother!