WALPOLE. Ought we to follow her? Is she in her right senses?
SIR PATRICK [with quiet conviction]. Yes. Shes all right. Leave her alone. She’ll come back.
RIDGEON [callously] Let us get this thing out of the way before she comes.
B. B. [rising, shocked] My dear Colly! The poor lad! He died splendidly.
SIR PATRICK:
Aye! that is how the wicked die.
For there are no bands in their death;
But their strength is firm:
They are not in trouble as other men.
No matter: its not for us to judge.