Part 21 (1/2)

ROBERT. Things may 'a' bin agin 'im, miss! . . .

MARY. Oh, you make me so unhappy! . . .

ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e's 'ad a 'ard life--a bitter 'ard life--same as I 'av', miss . . . [He breaks down.]

MARY. Ss.h.!.+ Please! Please! . . .

I can quite understand: indeed, indeed, I can! I'm sorry--oh, so sorry for you. You are thinking of yourself and of your own little girl--the little girl who doesn't know what you have been telling me. Don't be miserable! I'm sure it will all turn out right in the end--things always do; far better than you dream! Only . . .

don't take away _my_ little dream!

[She turns away her face. ROBERT rises heavily.]

ROBERT. All right, miss--I won't: swelp me Gawd, I won't. Don't cry, miss. Don't, miss! Breaks my 'eart--after all you've done for me. I ort never to 'a' bin born--mekin' you cry! Thank you kindly, miss: thank you very kindly. I'll--I'll tek my 'ook.

MARY. Oh, but I'm so sorry for _you_!

ROBERT. Thank you, miss.

MARY. I did so want to help you.

ROBERT. You 'av', miss.

MARY. Before you go, won't you tell me your name? Who are you?

ROBERT. I . . .

I got no name worth speakin' of, miss: I'm--just the bloke wot's a-lookin' arter the drains.

Good-bye, miss.

[At the door, he turns.]

Sorry I used bad words, miss.

[She runs to him and offers her hand. He takes it.]

MARY. Good-bye,

ROBERT. Good-bye, miss.

[He goes out.]

[She shuts the door after him, and turns a wretched little face towards the audience as the curtain falls.]

THE FOURTH ACT

As the curtain rises, the scene and situation remain unchanged.

After a moment, Mary comes down to the settee, left, and buries her face in the cus.h.i.+ons, weeping. Shortly, the handle of the drawing-room door is turned, and from within there emerges a murmur of voices, the Vicar's uppermost.