VERNON. A little later on, if you don’t mind, Mr. Newte. [He passes him.]
NEWTE [he is about to speak, changes his mind]. All right, go your own way. [Goes out.]
DR. FREEMANTLE. “Remember”, says Marcus Aurelius—
VERNON. Yes—good old sort, Marcus Aurelius. [He drops listlessly into a chair.]
Dr. Freemantle smiles resignedly, looks at the Misses Wetherell, shrugs his shoulders, and goes out, closing the door after him.
The Misses Wetherell whisper together—look round cautiously, steal up behind him, encouraging one another.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. She’s so young.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And so adaptable.
VERNON [he is sitting, bowed down, with his face in his hands]. Ah, it was the deception.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [she puts her old thin hand on his shoulder]. What would you have done, dear, if she had told you—at first?