Harry (Interrupts sulkily). I ain't accustomed to knuckle under. There's a pair of us. Hagberd's both. I ought to be thinking of my train.
Bessie (Earnestly). Why? There's no need. Let us get away up the road a little.
Harry (Through his teeth). And no money for the fare. (Looks up.) Sky's come overcast. Black, too. It'll be a wild, windy night... to walk the high road on. But I and wild nights are old friends wherever the free wind blows.
Bessie (Entreating). No need. No need. (Looks apprehensively at Hagberd's cottage. Takes a couple of steps up as if to draw Harry further off. Harry follows. Both stop.)
Harry (After waiting). What about this tomorrow whim?
Bessie. Leave that to me. Of course all his fancies are not mad. They aren't. (Pause.) Most people in this town would think what he had set his mind on quite sensible. If he ever talks to you of it, don't contradict him. It would—it would be dangerous.
Harry (Surprised). What would he do?
Bessie. He would—I don't know—something rash.
Harry (Startled). To himself?
Bessie. No. It'd be against you—I fear.