ROBERT.
She wept. She told me she was the divorced wife of a barrister. I offered her a sovereign as she told me she was short of money. She would not take it and wept very much. Then she drank some melissa water from a little bottle which she had in her satchel. I saw her enter her house. Then I walked home. In my room I found that my coat was all stained with the melissa water. I had no luck even with my coats yesterday: that was the second one. The idea came to me then to change my suit and go away by the morning boat. I packed my valise and went to bed. I am going away by the next train to my cousin, Jack Justice, in Surrey. Perhaps for a fortnight. Perhaps longer. Are you disgusted?
RICHARD.
Why did you not go by the boat?
ROBERT.
I slept it out.
RICHARD.
You intended to go without saying goodbye—without coming here?
ROBERT.
Yes.
RICHARD.
Why?
ROBERT.
My story is not very nice, is it?
RICHARD.
But you have come.
ROBERT.
Bertha sent me a message to come.
RICHARD.
But for that...?