MARY. I'm a wicked girl. (She sobs again.)
GUENEVERE. (after a moment's reflection.) Yes? Tell me about it.
MARY. Shall I tell you?
GUENEVERE. Yes. I think you'd better tell me.
MARY. I wanted to tell you. (She comes to Guenevere, and sinks beside her chair.) I wanted to tell you before Mr. Robinson came back. I couldn't tell you if he was here.
GUENEVERE. (smiling) My husband? Are you afraid of him, Mary?
MARY. Yes, ma'am.
GUENEVERE. (to herself) Poor Arthur! He does frighten people. He looks so—just.
MARY. That's what it is, ma'am. He always makes me think of my father.
GUENEVERE. Is your father a just man, too, Mary?