CONSTABLE. [With a sharp glance at him.] Can't neglect me duty, sir; that's impossible.
WELLWYN. Look here! She—slipped. She's been telling me. Come,
Constable, there's a good fellow. May be the making of her, this.
CONSTABLE. I quite appreciate your good 'eart, sir, an' you make it very 'ard for me—but, come now! I put it to you as a gentleman, would you go back on yer duty if you was me?
[WELLWYN raises his hat, and plunges his fingers through and through his hair.]
WELLWYN. Well! God in heaven! Of all the d—-d topsy—turvy—! Not a soul in the world wants her alive—and now she's to be prosecuted for trying to be where everyone wishes her.
CONSTABLE. Come, sir, come! Be a man!
[Throughout all this MRS. MEGAN has sat stolidly before the fire, but as FERRAND suddenly steps forward she looks up at him.]
FERRAND. Do not grieve, Monsieur! This will give her courage. There is nothing that gives more courage than to see the irony of things. [He touches MRS. MEGAN'S shoulder.] Go, my child; it will do you good.
[MRS. MEGAN rises, and looks at him dazedly.]
CONSTABLE. [Coming forward, and taking her by the hand.] That's my good lass. Come along! We won't hurt you.