WELLWYN. Did she, now?
BERTLEY. Disappointing. I consulted with CALWAY, and he advised me to try a certain institution. We got her safely in—excellent place; but, d'you know, she broke out three weeks ago. And since— I've heard [he holds his hands up] hopeless, I'm afraid—quite!
WELLWYN. I thought I saw her last night. You can't tell me her address, I suppose?
BERTLEY. [Shaking his head.] The husband too has quite passed out of my ken. He betted on horses, you remember. I'm sometimes tempted to believe there's nothing for some of these poor folk but to pray for death.
[ANN has entered from the house. Her hair hangs from under a knitted cap. She wears a white wool jersey, and a loose silk scarf.]
BERTLEY. Ah! Ann. I was telling your father of that poor little
Mrs. Megan.
ANN. Is she dead?
BERTLEY. Worse I fear. By the way—what became of her accomplice?
ANN. We haven't seen him since. [She looks searchingly at
WELLWYN.] At least—have you—Daddy?
WELLWYN. [Rather hurt.] No, my dear; I have not.