Mrs. Akers: You should be ashamed of yourself.
Mrs. Ballantyne: What’s the meaning of this?
Miss Miller: I’ll tell you. You said just now that the world is what it is—there’s no use in shrinking from things—shrinking from them! Ha, ha, ha! (she laughs hysterically). You’re a great deal more likely to jump at them. But if you want to have my explanation, you shall have it.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans (pointing to the door): Miss Miller, leave the room.
(Miss Miller looks at her, still laughing, then turns the key in the door, shutting and locking it.)
Miss Miller: I shan’t leave the room, nor you either, till you’ve heard what I’ve got to say.
Mrs. Akers: Good heavens, she’s mad!
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans (advancing resolutely): Give me that key this moment (putting out her hand for it).
(Miss Miller, too quick for her, dashes to the window, throwing up the sash, and flings out the key. During the rest of the scene she stands with her back to the open window, while the three other women are grouped together behind the table, at the further side of the room.)
Miss Miller (her voice has grown cunning, and bitterly and vehemently ironical both at once. She gives the impression of dementia): I knew what you were going to talk about. She (pointing to Mrs. Akers) gave it away when she said it must be “the usual thing.” Of course I listened, to hear what you’d do for Fanny—poor Fanny, who’s going to bring a little baby into the world, and who’s been ill and terrified and unhappy, all these months. And you (to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, bitter mockery in her tone) found it out, and you asked these other kind, charitable, rich ladies to come and meet you here, so that you could all talk it over, and make plans about Fanny. (Suddenly and viciously): And oh, how you all enjoyed it—didn’t you—telling each other how painful it was, and how sad, and how you could hardly put it into words!