WELLWYN. And am I not?
FERRAND. You treat me like a brother.
[WELLWYN has turned towards the street door at a sound of feet, and the clamour of voices.]
TIMSON. [From the street.] Take her in 'ere. I knows 'im.
[Through the open doorway come a POLICE CONSTABLE and a LOAFER, bearing between them the limp white faced form of MRS. MEGAN, hatless and with drowned hair, enveloped in the policeman's waterproof. Some curious persons bring up the rear, jostling in the doorway, among whom is TIMSON carrying in his hands the policeman's dripping waterproof leg pieces.]
FERRAND. [Starting forward.] Monsieur, it is that little girl!
WELLWYN. What's happened? Constable! What's happened!
[The CONSTABLE and LOAFER have laid the body down on the dais; with WELLWYN and FERRAND they stand bending over her.]
CONSTABLE. 'Tempted sooicide, sir; but she hadn't been in the water 'arf a minute when I got hold of her. [He bends lower.] Can't understand her collapsin' like this.
WELLWYN. [Feeling her heart.] I don't feel anything.