Richard.  I am sorry, for your sake, that I am—­what I am.  Allow me. (He takes the plate from her and goes with it to the table.)

Judith (following with the teapot).  Will you sit down? (He sits down at the end of the table nearest the press.  There is a plate and knife laid there.  The other plate is laid near it; but Judith stays at the opposite end of the table, next the fire, and takes her place there, drawing the tray towards her.) Do you take sugar?

Richard.  No; but plenty of milk.  Let me give you some toast. (He puts some on the second plate, and hands it to her, with the knife.  The action shows quietly how well he knows that she has avoided her usual place so as to be as far from him as possible.)

Judith (consciously).  Thanks. (She gives him his tea.) Won’t you help yourself?

Richard.  Thanks. (He puts a piece of toast on his own plate; and she pours out tea for herself.)

Judith (observing that he tastes nothing).  Don’t you like it?  You are not eating anything.

Richard.  Neither are you.

Judith (nervously).  I never care much for my tea.  Please don’t mind me.

Richard (Looking dreamily round).  I am thinking.  It is all so strange to me.  I can see the beauty and peace of this home:  I think I have never been more at rest in my life than at this moment; and yet I know quite well I could never live here.  It’s not in my nature, I suppose, to be domesticated.  But it’s very beautiful:  it’s almost holy. (He muses a moment, and then laughs softly.)

Judith (quickly).  Why do you laugh?

Richard.  I was thinking that if any stranger came in here now, he would take us for man and wife.

Judith (taking offence).  You mean, I suppose, that you are more my age than he is.

Richard (staring at this unexpected turn).  I never thought of such a thing. (Sardonic again.) I see there is another side to domestic joy.

Judith (angrily).  I would rather have a husband whom everybody respects than—­than—­

Richard.  Than the devil’s disciple.  You are right; but I daresay your love helps him to be a good man, just as your hate helps me to be a bad one.

Judith.  My husband has been very good to you.  He has forgiven you for insulting him, and is trying to save you.  Can you not forgive him for being so much better than you are?  How dare you belittle him by putting yourself in his place?

Richard.  Did I?

Judith.  Yes, you did.  You said that if anybody came in they would take us for man and—­(she stops, terror-stricken, as a squad of soldiers tramps past the window) The English soldiers!  Oh, what do they—­

Richard (listening).  Sh!

A voice (outside).  Halt!  Four outside:  two in with me.