ANDERSON.
My dear: in this world there is always danger for those who are afraid of it. There’s a danger that the house will catch fire in the night; but we shan’t sleep any the less soundly for that.
JUDITH.
Yes, I know what you always say; and you’re quite right. Oh, quite right: I know it. But—I suppose I’m not brave: that’s all. My heart shrinks every time I think of the soldiers.
ANDERSON.
Never mind that, dear: bravery is none the worse for costing a little pain.
JUDITH.
Yes, I suppose so. (Embracing him again.) Oh how brave you are, my dear! (With tears in her eyes.) Well, I’ll be brave too: you shan’t be ashamed of your wife.
ANDERSON.
That’s right. Now you make me happy. Well, well! (He rises and goes cheerily to the fire to dry his shoes.) I called on Richard Dudgeon on my way back; but he wasn’t in.
JUDITH.
(rising in consternation). You called on that man!
ANDERSON.
(reassuring her). Oh, nothing happened, dearie. He was out.
JUDITH.
(almost in tears, as if the visit were a personal humiliation to her). But why did you go there?
ANDERSON.
(gravely). Well, it is all the talk that Major Swindon is going to do what he did in Springtown—make an example of some notorious rebel, as he calls us. He pounced on Peter Dudgeon as the worst character there; and it is the general belief that he will pounce on Richard as the worst here.
JUDITH.
But Richard said—