[After a look in the direction of ANN’s disappearance, he opens the street door a very little way.  By the light of the lamp there can be seen a young girl in dark clothes, huddled in a shawl to which the snow is clinging.  She has on her arm a basket covered with a bit of sacking.]

Wellwyn.  I can’t, you know; it’s impossible.

     [The girl says nothing, but looks at him with dark eyes.]

Wellwyn. [Wincing.] Let’s see—­I don’t know you—­do I?

     [The girl, speaking in a soft, hoarse voice, with a faint accent
     of reproach:  “Mrs. Megan—­you give me this—–­” She holds out a
     dirty visiting card.]

Wellwyn. [Recoiling from the card.] Oh!  Did I?  Ah!  When?

Mrs. Megan.  You ’ad some vi’lets off of me larst spring.  You give me ’arf a crown.

     [A smile tries to visit her face.]

Wellwyn. [Looking stealthily round.] Ah!  Well, come in—­just for a minute—­it’s very cold—­and tell us what it is.

     [She comes in stolidly, a Sphinx-like figure, with her pretty
     tragic little face.]

Wellwyn.  I don’t remember you. [Looking closer.] Yes, I do.  Only—­ you weren’t the same-were you?

Mrs. Megan. [Dully.] I seen trouble since.

Wellwyn.  Trouble!  Have some tea?

     [He looks anxiously at the door into the house, then goes
     quickly to the table, and pours out a glass of tea, putting rum
     into it.]

Wellwyn. [Handing her the tea.] Keeps the cold out!  Drink it off!

[Mrs. Megan drinks it of, chokes a little, and almost immediately seems to get a size larger.  Wellwyn watches her with his head held on one side, and a smile broadening on his face.]

Wellwyn.  Cure for all evils, um?

Mrs. Megan.  It warms you. [She smiles.]

Wellwyn. [Smiling back, and catching himself out.] Well!  You know,
I oughtn’t.

Mrs. Megan. [Conscious of the disruption of his personality, and withdrawing into her tragic abyss.] I wouldn’t ’a come, but you told me if I wanted an ’and——­

Wellwyn. [Gradually losing himself in his own nature.] Let me see—­corner of Flight Street, wasn’t it?

Mrs. Megan. [With faint eagerness.] Yes, sir, an’ I told you about me vi’lets—­it was a luvly spring-day.

Wellwyn.  Beautiful!  Beautiful!  Birds singing, and the trees, &c.!  We had quite a talk.  You had a baby with you.

Mrs. Megan.  Yes.  I got married since then.

Wellwyn.  Oh!  Ah!  Yes! [Cheerfully.] And how’s the baby?

Mrs. Megan. [Turning to stone.] I lost her.

Wellwyn.  Oh! poor—–­ Um!