Hargrave. Under the direction of a wholly worthless, degraded rascal, who has dogged my footsteps from that day to this, who has even threatened my life, and who has been the one and only cause of my assuming the name of Hargrave.
Jane. His name?
Hargrave. His name is Crapsey! And he has even followed me to this country.
Jane. Oh! (Sinks into chair.)
Hargrave. When I stole him from that pernicious place, his sole mark of identification was John, plain John, Disciple No. 1, in Crapsey's School for Socialism. (Bell rings overhead.)
Jane. You stole him, Peter, and your act was as free to censure as any committed by your brother.
Hargrave. Ssh!
Jane. I won't be still. I want to tell you right now.
Hargrave (terrified). There's someone at the door.
Jane. I don't care. They can hear too if they want to. (Gets up.)