[He bends over WELLWYN's hand; then, with a bow to ANN goes out; his tattered figure can be seen through the window, passing in the wind. WELLWYN turns back to the fire. The figure of TIMSON advances into the doorway, no longer holding in either hand a waterproof leg-piece.]
TIMSON. [In a croaky voice.] Sir!
WELLWYN. What—you, Timson?
TIMSON. On me larst legs, sir. 'Ere! You can see 'em for yerself!
Shawn't trouble yer long….
WELLWYN. [After a long and desperate stare.] Not now—TIMSON not now! Take this! [He takes out another card, and hands it to TIMSON] Some other time.
TIMSON. [Taking the card.] Yer new address! You are a gen'leman.
[He lurches slowly away.]
[ANN shuts the street door and sets her back against it. The
rumble of the approaching van is heard outside. It ceases.]
ANN. [In a fateful voice.] Daddy! [They stare at each other.] Do you know what you've done? Given your card to those six rotters.
WELLWYN. [With a blank stare.] Six?
ANN. [Staring round the naked room.] What was the good of this?