Sydney. Mother, what is it? [She enters, followed by Miss Fairfield. To Hilary—] What are you doing? You’re frightening her.
Hilary. [Wildly] No, no! You’re not on her side. You’re little Sydney—kind—my Sydney! What did you say—go slow, eh! Keep your hand here—cool, cool. [Then as Sydney, breaking from him, makes a movement to her mother] Stand away from that woman!
Margaret. Sydney, humour him.
Hilary. [At white heat] What was I calling you for, eh? Oh, yes, a riddle. I’ve got a riddle for you. There was a man at that place—used to ask riddles—the moon told ’em to him. Just such a white face whispering out of the blue—lies! He couldn’t find the answers—sent him off his head. But I know the answer. When’s a wife not a wife, eh? Want to know the answer? [Pointing to Margaret] When she’s this—this—this! [Confidentially] She’s poisoning me.
Miss Fairfield. Now, Hilary! Hilary!—
Hilary. Sydney, come here! I’ll tell you. [Sydney stands torn between the two.]
Miss Fairfield. What have you done to him, Margaret?
Margaret. I’ve told him the truth.
Miss Fairfield. God forgive you!
Hilary. [Raving] I tell you she’s pouring poison into my ear. You remember that fellow in the play—and his wife? That’s what she’s done. If I told you what she said to me, you’d think I was mad. And that’s what she wants you to think. She wants to get rid of me. She’s got a tame cat about the place. I’m in the way. And so she comes to me, d’you see, and tells me—what do you think? She says she’s not my wife. What do you think of that?