(Dr. Thorne recoiling slowly, an expression of cold horror chills his features.)
Cleo (still raving). Yes, I’ve murdered you—if you will—and Mary Fayth besides. And I’ve broken Helen’s heart. Do you suppose that counts? Who counts? Nobody on earth, or in heaven, or in hell. I’ve got you away from your wife.... And in earth, or in heaven, or in hell, I’ll have you yet....
Dr. Thorne (throwing out his hands; holds her off with evidences of unbearable repulsion; speaks with difficulty). And I pitied you a moment since. Now I cannot scorn you. It is too fine a word.
Cleo (more calmly). I can abide my time.
Enter Laddie, running rapidly.
Laddie. Papa, Papa! Oh, I missed you, Papa!
Cleo (starting). I did not know the child was dead! (Looks disconcerted.)
Dr. Thorne (catches the child, and holds him to his heart; speaks). No. You only knew you left him fatherless. (With much agitation, continues.) How did you get here, Laddie? How did you find the way? Papa hadn’t forgotten his little boy. I was coming right back to you, my son.
Laddie (mysteriously; looking about). A man with wings brought me. We flowed over.... He is waiting out there to take us back. (Observing Cleo, Laddie slips down to the ground, and backs up against his father’s knees; points at the woman.) Papa, I don’t like that lady.
Dr. Thorne (cruelly). My son, I cannot deny that I respect your taste. (Clasps the boy to his heart again; then puts him down once more, and, with a fine motion, holds the child at arm’s-length between himself and the woman.)