FALDER. Have you got your things, and the children's?
RUTH. Had to leave them, for fear of waking Honeywill, all but one bag. I can't go near home again.
FALDER. [Wincing] All that money gone for nothing.
How much must you have?
RUTH. Six pounds—I could do with that, I think.
FALDER. Don't give away where we're going. [As if to himself] When
I get out there I mean to forget it all.
RUTH. If you're sorry, say so. I'd sooner he killed me than take you against your will.
FALDER. [With a queer smile] We've got to go. I don't care; I'll have you.
RUTH. You've just to say; it's not too late.
FALDER. It is too late. Here's seven pounds. Booking office 11.45 to-night. If you weren't what you are to me, Ruth——!
RUTH. Kiss me!