James Ford.
Good-bye, George. My promise holds.
George Winter.
[Bitterly.] It’s no good to me. I’m like a rat in a trap. You can get what fun you like out of seeing me wriggle.
[For a moment James Ford looks at him, then silently goes out. George Winter is seized with a horrible, convulsive trembling. He shakes as a man might shake in an ague. With his quick mind he sees that no subtlety will save him now; he is up against the blank wall of a character as strong as his own. In a moment Catherine enters the room.
George Winter.
What the devil d’you want?
Catherine.
I heard Mr. Ford go. May I speak to you now?
[George Winter makes an effort to appear composed.