BEATRICE. When you let me go out there with mother I thought—I did think I would be able; and I had begun—and then—spring came!
STRANGWAY. Spring came here too! Never so—aching! Beatrice, can't you?
BEATRICE. I've something to say.
STRANGWAY. No! No! No!
BEATRICE. You see—I've—fallen.
STRANGWAY. Ah! [In a twice sharpened by pain] Why, in the name of mercy, come here to tell me that? Was he out there, then?
BEATRICE. I came straight back to him.
STRANGWAY. To Durford?
BEATRICE. To the Crossway Hotel, miles out—in my own name. They don't know me there. I told you not to hope, Michael. I've done my best; I swear it.
STRANGWAY. My God!