LEONARD. No. Don’t go.
MARY. I must go. I can’t throw over George Truefit.
LEONARD. You are throwing me over.
MARY. That doesn’t matter. That’s another thing.
LEONARD. Oh! Is it? Why?
MARY. It was all wrong from the beginning. I brought it on myself. I’m sorrier for my mother than anyone. She told me there were men like you. I wouldn’t have gone if little Leonard had lived. Not if I’d had to leave him. But now George Truefit and I have talked it over and we think we see what’s right. It can’t be right but it’s not so wrong as other things.
LEONARD. Mary, do you love George Truefit?
MARY. Now, that’s what I’ve said to myself sometimes. And people talk of love and stories are full of it. I can’t make out rightly what it is. Did you love me when first—They talk about a mother loving. Well—little Leonard—are they the same? If that’s love I don’t love George. But I want to be sure of things. I want things to last. I want to feel that I’m faithful and true. It’s strange for me to be running away from my husband for that. I’m not one of the kind that does it. It’s funny that I’m leaving you because I want to be a proper wife. P’raps I’m all wrong. It’s hard for a girl like me, not very clever, to make out things. It’s all been very unusual. I may be wrong but I can’t help it.
MRS. TIMBRELL. You are not wrong, Mary.
TIMBRELL. This is madness. Are you going to justify her now?