Bessie (Half averted, face in hands). You see! Don't come near me.
Harry (Makes a step towards her). I must have another look at your pale face.
Bessie (Turns unexpectedly and pushes him with both hands; Harry staggers back and stands still; Bessie, fiercely). Go away.
Harry (Watching her). Directly. But women always had to get me out of my scrapes. I am a beggar now, and you must help me out of my scrape.
Bessie (Who at the word "beggar" had begun fumbling in the pocket of her dress, speaks wildly). Here it is. Take it. Don't look at me. Don't speak to me!
Harry (Swaggers up under the lamp; looks at coin in his palm). Half-a-quid. . .. My fare!
Bessie (Hands clenched). Why are you still here?
Harry. Well, you are a fine figure of a girl. My word. I've a good mind to stop—for a week.
Bessie (Pain and shame). Oh!.... What are you waiting for? If I had more money I would give it all, all. I would give everything I have to make you go—to make you forget you had ever heard my voice and seen my face. (Covers face with hands.)
Harry (Sombre, watches her). No fear! I haven't forgotten a single one of you in the world. Some've given me more than money. No matter. You can't buy me in—and you can't buy yourself out. . .