Mrs. Gwyn. [With a little laugh.] Couldn’t help listening?

Joy. [Through her teeth.] I hate him.  I didn’t mean to listen, but
I hate him.

Mrs. Gwyn.  I see.  Why do you hate him?

     [There is a silence.]

Joy.  He—­he——­[She stops.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  Yes?

Joy. [With a sort of despair.] I don’t know.  Oh!  I don’t know! 
But I feel——­

Mrs. Gwyn.  I can’t reason with you.  As to what you heard, it ’s—­ ridiculous.

Joy.  It ’s not that.  It ’s—­it ’s you!

Mrs. Gwyn. [Stonily.] I don’t know what you mean.

Joy. [Passionately.] I wish Dad were here!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Do you love your Father as much as me?

Joy.  Oh!  Mother, no-you know I don’t.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Resentfully.] Then why do you want him?

Joy. [Almost under her breath.] Because of that man.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Indeed!

Joy.  I will never—­never make friends with him.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Cuttingly.] I have not asked you to.

Joy. [With a blind movement of her hand.] Oh, Mother!

     [Mrs. Gwyn half turns away.]

Mother—­won’t you?  Let’s tell Uncle Tom and go away from him?

Mrs. Gwyn.  If you were not, a child, Joy, you wouldn’t say such things.

Joy. [Eagerly.] I’m not a child, I’m—­I’m a woman.  I am.

Mrs. Gwyn.  No!  You—­are—­not a woman, Joy.

     [She sees joy throw up her arms as though warding off a blow,
     and turning finds that lever is standing in the opening of the
     wall.]

Lever. [Looking from face to face.] What’s the matter? [There is no answer.] What is it, Joy?

Joy. [Passionately.] I heard you, I don’t care who knows.  I’d listen again.

Lever. [Impassively.] Ah! and what did I say that was so very dreadful?

Joy.  You’re a—­a—­you ’re a—­coward!

Mrs. Gwyn. [With a sort of groan.] Joy!

Lever. [Stepping up to joy, and standing with his hands behind him—­ in a low voice.] Now hit me in the face—­hit me—­hit me as hard as you can.  Go on, Joy, it’ll do you good.

     [Joy raises her clenched hand, but drops it, and hides her
     face.]

Why don’t you?  I’m not pretending!

     [Joy makes no sign.]

Come, joy; you’ll make yourself ill, and that won’t help, will it?

     [But joy still makes no sign.]

[With determination.] What’s the matter? now come—­tell me!

Joy. [In a stifled, sullen voice.] Will you leave my mother alone?