The Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd/Act II
THE SECOND ACT
The scene is the same, two hours later. The cottage is in darkness, save for the firelight. On the table is spread a newspaper. A cup and saucer, a plate, a piece of bacon in the frying tin are on the newspaper ready for the miner’s breakfast. Mrs. Holroyd has gone to bed. There is a noise of heavy stumbling down the three steps outside.
Blackmore’s Voice
- Steady, now, steady. It ’s all in darkness. Missis!—Has she gone to bed?
- [He tries the latch—shakes the door.
Holroyd’s Voice (he is drunk)
- Her ’s locked me out. Let me smash that bloody door in. Come out—come out—ussza! (He strikes a heavy blow on the door. There is a scuffle)
Blackmore’s Voice
- Hold on a bit—what ’re you doing?
Holroyd’s Voice
- I ’m smashing that blasted door in.
Holroyd (lurching into the room, snarling)
- What? What? Tha thought tha ’d play thy monkey tricks on me, did ter? (Shouting) But I ’m going to show thee. (He lurches at her threateningly; she recoils)
Blackmore (seizing him by the arm)
- Here, here,—! Come and sit down and be quiet.
Holroyd (snarling at him)
- What?—What? An’ what’s thäigh got ter do wi’ it? (Shouting) What ’s thäigh got ter do wi’ it?
Blackmore
- Nothing—nothing; but it ’s getting late, and you want your supper.
Holroyd (shouting)
- I want nöwt. I ’m allowed nöwt in this ’ouse. (Shouting louder) ’Er begrudges me ivry morsel I ha’e.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Oh, what a story!
Holroyd (shouting)
- It ’s the truth, an’ you know it.
Blackmore (conciliatory)
- You ’ll rouse the children. You ’ll rouse the children, at this hour.
Holroyd (suddenly quiet)
- Not me—not if I know it. I shan’t disturb ’em—bless ’em.
- [He staggers to his armchair and sits heavily.
Blackmore
- Shall I light the lamp?
Mrs. Holroyd
- No, don’t trouble. Don’t stay any longer, there ’s no need.
Blackmore (quietly)
- I ’ll just see it ’s all right.
- [He proceeds in silence to light the lamp. Holroyd is seen dropping forward in his chair. He has a cut on his cheek. Mrs. Holroyd is in an old-fashioned dressing-gown. Blackmore has an overcoat buttoned up to his chin. There is a very large lump of coal on the red fire.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Don’t stay any longer.
Blackmore
- I ’ll see it ’s all right.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I shall be all right. He ’ll go to sleep now.
Blackmore
- But he can’t go like that.
Mrs. Holroyd
- What has he done to his face?
Blackmore
- He had a row with Jim Goodwin.
Mrs. Holroyd
- What about?
Blackmore
- I don’t know.
Mrs. Holroyd
- The beast!
Blackmore
- By Jove, and is n’t he a weight! He ’s getting fat, must be—
Mrs. Holroyd
- He ’s big made—he has a big frame.
Blackmore
- Whatever he is, it took me all my time to get him home. I thought I ’d better keep an eye on him. I knew you ’d be worrying. So I sat in the smokeroom and waited for him. Though it ’s a dirty hole—and dull as hell.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Why did you bother?
Blackmore
- Well, I thought you ’d be upset about him. I had to drink three whiskies—had to, in all conscience—(smiling)
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t want to be the ruin of you.
Blackmore (smiling)
- Don’t you? I thought he’d pitch forward onto the lines and crack his skull.
- [Holroyd has been sinking farther and farther forward in drunken sleep. He suddenly jerks too far and is awakened. He sits upright, glaring fiercely and dazedly at the two, who instantly cease talking.
Holroyd (to Blackmore)
- What are thäigh doin’ ’ere?
Blackmore
- Why, I came along with you.
Holroyd
- Thou ’rt a liar, I ’m only just come in.
Mrs. Holroyd (coldly)
- He is no liar at all. He brought you home because you were too drunk to come yourself.
Holroyd (starting up)
- Thou ’rt a liar! I niver set eyes on him this night, afore now.
Mrs. Holroyd (with a “Pf” of contempt)
- You don’t know what you have done to-night.
Holroyd (shouting)
- I s’ll not have it, I tell thee.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Psh!
Holroyd
- I s’ll not ha’e it. I s’ll ha’e no carryin’s on i’ my ’ouse—
Mrs. Holroyd (shrugging her shoulders)
- Talk when you ’ve got some sense.
Holroyd (fiercely)
- I’ve as much sense as thäigh. Am I a fool? Canna I see? What ’s he doin’ here then, answer me that. What—?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Mr. Blackmore came to bring you home, because you were too drunk to find your own way. And this is the thanks he gets.
Holroyd (contemptuously)
- Blackymore, Blackymore. It ’s him tha cuts thy cloth by, is it?
Mrs. Holroyd (hotly)
- You don’t know what you ’re talking about, so keep your tongue still.
Holroyd (bitingly)
- I don’t know what I ’m talking about—I don’t know what I ’m talking about—don’t I? An’ what about him standing there then, if I don’t know what I ’m talking about?—What?
Blackmore
- You ’ve been to sleep, Charlie, an’ forgotten I came in with you, not long since.
Holroyd
- I ’m not daft, I ’m not a fool. I ’ve got eyes in my head, and sense. You need n’t try to get over me. I know what you ’re up to.
Blackmore (flushing)
- It ’s a bit off to talk to me like that, Charlie, I must say.
Holroyd
- I ’m not good enough for ’er. She wants Mr. Blackymore. He ’s a gentleman, he is. Now we have it all; now we understand.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I wish you understood enough to keep your tongue still.
Holroyd
- What? What? I ’m to keep my tongue still, am I? An’ what about Mr. Blackymore?
Mrs. Holroyd (fiercely)
- Stop your mouth, you—you vulgar, low-minded brute.
Holroyd
- Am I? Am I? An’ what are you? What tricks are you up to, an’ all? But that ’s all right—that ’s all right. (Shouting) That ’s all right, if it ’s you.
Blackmore
- I think I ’d better go. You seem to enjoy—er—er—calumniating your wife.
Holroyd (mockingly)
- Calamniating—calamniating—I ’ll give you calamniating, you mealy-mouthed jockey: I ’ll give you calamniating.
Blackmore
- I think you ’ve said about enough.
Holroyd
- ’Ave I, ’ave I? Yer flimsy jack—’ave I? (In a sudden burst) But I ’ve not done wi’ thee yet.
Blackmore (ironically)
- No, and you have n’t.
- [Blackmore laughs.
Holroyd
- Yes!—yes, my young monkey. It ’s thäigh, is it?
Blackmore
- Yes, it ’s me.
Holroyd (shouting)
- An’ I ’ll ma’e thee wish it wor n’t, I will. What—? What—? Tha ’d come slivin’ round here, would ta? (He lurches forward at Blackmore with clenched fist)
Mrs. Holroyd
- Drunken, drunken fool—oh, don’t.
Holroyd (turning to her)
- What?
- [She puts up her hands before her face. Blackmore seizes the upraised arm and swings Holroyd round.
Blackmore (in a towering passion)
- Mind what tha ’rt doing!
Holroyd (turning fiercely on him—incoherent)
- Wha’—wha’—!
- [He aims a heavy blow. Blackmore evades it, so that he is struck on the side of the chest. Suddenly he shows his teeth. He raises his fists ready to strike Holroyd when the latter stands to advantage.
Mrs. Holroyd (rushing upon Blackmore)
- No, no! Oh, no!
- [She flies and opens the door, and goes out. Blackmore glances after her, then at Holroyd, who is preparing, like a bull, for another charge. The young man’s face lights up.
Holroyd
- Wha’—wha’—!
- [As he advances, Blackmore quickly retreats out-of-doors. Holroyd plunges upon him. Blackmore slips behind the door-jamb, puts out his foot, and trips Holroyd with a crash upon the brick yard.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Oh, what has he done to himself?
Blackmore (thickly)
- Tumbled over himself.
- [Holroyd is seen struggling to rise, and is heard incoherently cursing.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Are n’t you going to get him up?
Blackmore
- What for?
Mrs. Holroyd
- But what shall we do?
Blackmore
- Let him go to hell.
- [Holroyd, who had subsided, begins to snarl and struggle again.
Mrs. Holroyd (in terror)
- He ’s getting up.
Blackmore
- All right, let him.
- [Mrs. Holroyd looks at Blackmore, suddenly afraid of him also.
Holroyd (in a last frenzy)
- I ’ll show thee—I ’ll—
- [He raises himself up, and is just picking his balance when Blackmore, with a sudden light kick, sends him sprawling again. He is seen on the edge of the light to collapse into stupor.
Mrs. Holroyd
- He ’ll kill you, he ’ll kill you!
- [Blackmore laughs short.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Would you believe it! Oh, is n’t it awful! (She begins to weep in a little hysteria; Blackmore stands with his back leaning on the doorway, grinning in a strained fashion) Is he hurt, do you think?
Blackmore
- I don’t know—I should think not.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I wish he was dead; I do, with all my heart.
Blackmore
- Do you? (He looks at her quickly; she wavers and shrinks; he begins to smile strainedly as before) You don’t know what you wish, or what you want.
Mrs. Holroyd (troubled)
- Do you think I could get past him to come inside?
Blackmore
- I should think so.
- [Mrs. Holroyd, silent and troubled, manœuvres in the doorway, stepping over her husband’s feet, which lie on the threshold.
Blackmore
- Why, you ’ve got no shoes and stockings on!
Mrs. Holroyd
- No. (She enters the house and stands trembling before the fire)
Blackmore (following her)
- Are you cold?
Mrs. Holroyd
- A little—with standing on the yard.
Blackmore
- What a shame!
- [She, uncertain of herself, sits down. He drops on one knee, awkwardly, and takes her feet in his hands.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Don’t—no, don’t!
Blackmore
- They are frightfully cold. (He remains, with head sunk, for some moments, then slowly rises) Damn him!
- [They look at each other; then, at the same time, turn away.
Mrs. Holroyd
- We can’t leave him lying there.
Blackmore
- No—no! I ’ll bring him in.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But—!
Blackmore
- He won’t wake again. The drink will have got hold of him by now. (He hesitates) Could you take hold of his feet—he ’s so heavy.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes.
- [They go out and are seen stooping over Holroyd.
Blackmore
- Wait, wait, till I ’ve got him—half a minute.
- [Mrs. Holroyd backs in first. They carry Holroyd in and lay him on the sofa.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Does n’t he look awful?
Blackmore
- It ’s more mark than mar. It is n’t much, really.
- [He is busy taking off Holroyd’s collar and tie, unfastening the waistcoat, the braces and the waist buttons of the trousers; he then proceeds to unlace the drunken man’s boots.
Mrs. Holroyd (who has been watching closely)
- I shall never get him upstairs.
Blackmore
- He can sleep here, with a rug or something to cover him. You don’t want him—upstairs?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Never again.
Blackmore (after a moment or two of silence)
- He ’ll be all right down here. Have you got a rug?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes.
- [She goes upstairs. Blackmore goes into the scullery, returning with a lading can and towel. He gets hot water from the boiler. Then, kneeling down, he begins to wipe the drunken man’s face lightly with the flannel, to remove the blood and dirt.
Mrs. Holroyd (returning)
- What are you doing?
Blackmore
- Only wiping his face to get the dirt out.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I wonder if he ’d do as much for you.
Blackmore
- I hope not.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Is n’t he horrible, horrible—
Blackmore (looks up at her)
- Don’t look at him then.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I can’t take it in, it ’s too much.
Blackmore
- He won’t wake. I will stay with you.
Mrs. Holroyd (earnestly)
- No—oh, no.
Blackmore
- There will be the drawn sword between us. (He indicates the figure of Holroyd, which lies, in effect, as a barrier between them)
Mrs. Holroyd (blushing)
- Don’t!
Blackmore
- I ’m sorry.
- I wonder you can be so careful over him.
Blackmore (quietly)
- It ’s only because he ’s helpless.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But why should you love him ever so little?
Blackmore
- I don’t—only he ’s helpless. Five minutes since I could have killed him.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Well, I don’t understand you men.
Blackmore
- Why?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know.
Blackmore
- I thought as I stood in that doorway, and he was trying to get up—I wished as hard as I ’ve ever wished anything in my life—
Mrs. Holroyd
- What?
Blackmore
- That I ’d killed him. I ’ve never wished anything so much in my life—if wishes were anything.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Don’t, it does sound awful.
Blackmore
- I could have done it, too. He ought to be dead.
Mrs. Holroyd (pleading)
- No, don’t! You know you don’t mean it, and you make me feel so awful.
Blackmore
- I do mean it. It is simply true, what I say.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But don’t say it.
Blackmore
- No?
Mrs. Holroyd
- No, we ’ve had enough.
Blackmore
- Give me the rug.
- [She hands it him, and he tucks Holroyd up.
Mrs. Holroyd
- You only do it to play on my feelings.
Blackmore (laughing shortly)
- And now give me a pillow—thanks.
- [There is a pause—both look at the sleeping man.
Blackmore
- I suppose you ’re fond of him, really.
Mrs. Holroyd
- No more.
Blackmore
- You were fond of him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I was—yes,
Blackmore
- What did you like in him?
Mrs. Holroyd (uneasily)
- I don’t know.
Blackmore
- I suppose you really care about him, even now.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Why are you so sure of it?
Blackmore
- Because I think it is so.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I did care for him—now he has destroyed it—
Blackmore
- I don’t believe he can destroy it.
Mrs. Holroyd (with a short laugh)
- Don’t you? When you are married you try. You ’ll find it is n’t so hard.
Blackmore
- But what did you like in him—because he was good-looking, and strong, and that?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I liked that as well. But if a man makes a nuisance of himself, his good looks are ugly to you, and his strength loathsome. Do you think I care about a man because he ’s got big fists, when he is a coward in his real self?
Blackmore
- Is he a coward?
Mrs. Holroyd
- He is—a pettifogging, paltry one.
Blackmore
- And so you ’ve really done with him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I have.
Blackmore
- And what are you going to do?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know.
Blackmore
- I suppose nothing. You ’ll just go on—even if you ’ve done with him—you ’ll go on with him.
- [There is a long pause.
Blackmore
- But was there nothing else in him but his muscles and his good looks to attract you to him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Why? What does it matter?
Blackmore
- What did you think he was?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Why must we talk about him?
Blackmore
- Because I can never quite believe you.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I can’t help whether you believe it or not.
Blackmore
- Are you just in a rage with him, because of to-night?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I know, to-night finished it. But it was never right between us.
Blackmore
- Never?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Not once. And then to-night—no, it ’s too much; I can’t stand any more of it.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I suppose he got tipsy. Then he said he was n’t a married man—vowed he was n’t, to those paper bonnets. They found out he was, and said he was frightened of his wife getting to know. Then he said they should all go to supper at his house—I suppose they came out of mischief.
Mrs. Holroyd
- He did it to insult me.
Blackmore
- Oh, he was a bit tight—you can’t say it was deliberate.
Mrs. Holroyd
- No, but it shows how he feels toward me. The feeling comes out in drink.
Blackmore
- How does he feel toward you?
Mrs. Holroyd
- He wants to insult me, and humiliate. me, in every moment of his life. Now I simply despise him.
Blackmore
- You really don’t care any more about him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- No.
Blackmore (hesitates)
- And you would leave him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I would leave him, and not care that about him any more. (She snaps her fingers)
Blackmore
- Will you come with me?
Mrs. Holroyd (after a reluctant pause)
- Where?
Blackmore
- To Spain: I can any time have a job there, in a decent part. You could take the children.
- [The figure of the sleeper stirs uneasily—they watch him.
Blackmore
- Will you?
Mrs. Holroyd
- When would you go?
Blackmore
- To-morrow, if you like.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But why do you want to saddle yourself with me and the children?
Blackmore
- Because I want to.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But you don’t love me?
Blackmore
- Why don’t I?
Mrs. Holroyd
- You don’t.
Blackmore
- I don’t know about that. I don’t know anything about love. Only I ’ve gone on for a year now, and it ’s got stronger and stronger—
Mrs. Holroyd
- What has?
Blackmore
- This—this wanting you, to live with me. I took no notice of it for a long time. Now I can’t get away from it, at no hour and nohow. (He still avoids direct contact with her)
Mrs. Holroyd
- But you ’d like to get away from it.
Blackmore
- I hate a mess of any sort. But if you ’ll come away with me—you and the children—
Mrs. Holroyd
- But I could n’t—you don’t love me—
Blackmore
- I don’t know what you mean by I don’t love you.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I can feel it.
Blackmore
- And do you love me? (A pause)
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know. Everything is so—so—
- [There is a long pause.
Blackmore
- How old are you?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Thirty-two.
Blackmore
- I ’m twenty-seven.
Mrs. Holroyd
- And have you never been in love?
Blackmore
- I don’t think so. I don’t know.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But you must know. I must go and shut that door that keeps clicking.
- [She rises to go upstairs, making a clatter at the stairfoot door. The noise rouses her husband. As she goes upstairs, he moves, makes coughing sounds, turns over, and then suddenly sits upright, gazing at Blackmore. The latter sits perfectly still on the sofa, his head dropped, hiding his face. His hands are clasped. They remain thus for a minute.
Holroyd
- Hello! (He stares fixedly) Hello! (His tone is undecided, as if he mistrusts himself) What are—who are ter? (Blackmore does not move; Holroyd stares blankly; he then turns and looks at the room) Well, I dunna know.
- [He staggers to his feet, clinging to the table, and goes groping to the stairs. They creak loudly under his weight. A doorlatch is heard to click. In a moment Mrs. Holroyd comes quickly downstairs.
Blackmore
- Has he gone to bed?
Mrs. Holroyd (nodding)
- Lying on the bed.
Blackmore
- Will he settle now?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know. He is like that sometimes. He will have delirium tremens if he goes on.
Blackmore (softly)
- You can’t stay with him, you know.
Mrs. Holroyd
- And the children?
Blackmore
- We ’ll take them.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Oh!
- [Her face puckers to cry. Suddenly he starts up and puts his arms round her, holding her protectively and gently, very caressingly. She clings to him. They are silent. for some moments.
Blackmore (struggling, in an altered voice)
- Look at me and kiss me.
- [Her sobs are heard distinctly. Blackmore lays his hand on her cheek, caressing her always with his hand.
Blackmore
- My God, but I hate him! I wish either he was dead or me. (Mrs. Holroyd hides against him; her sobs cease; after a while he continues in the same murmuring fashion) It can’t go on like it any more. I feel as if I should come in two. I can’t keep away from you. I simply can’t. Come with me. Come with me and leave him. If you knew what a hell it is for me to have you here—and to see him. I can’t go without you, I can’t. It’s been hell every moment for six months now. You say I don’t love you. Perhaps I don’t, for all I know about it. But oh, my God, don’t keep me like it any longer. Why should he have you—and I ’ve never had anything.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Have you never loved anybody?
Blackmore
- No—I ’ve tried. Kiss me of your own wish—will you?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know.
Blackmore (after a pause)
- Let ’s break clear. Let ’s go right away. Do you care for me?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know. (She loosens herself, rises dumbly)
Blackmore
- When do you think you will know?
- [She sits down helplessly.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I don’t know.
Blackmore
- Yes, you do know, really. If he was dead, should you marry me?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Don’t say it—
Blackmore
- Why not? If wishing of mine would kill him, he ’d soon be out of the way.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But the children!
Blackmore
- I ’m fond of them. I shall have good money.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But he ’s their father.
Blackmore
- What does that mean—?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes, I know—(a pause) but—
Blackmore
- Is it him that keeps you?
Mrs. Holroyd
- No.
Blackmore
- Then come with me. Will you? (He stands waiting for her; then he turns and takes his overcoat; pulls it on, leaving the collar turned up, ceasing to twist his cap) Well—will you tell me to-morrow?
- [She goes forward and flings her arms round his neck. He suddenly kisses her passionately.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But I ought not. (She draws away a little; he will not let her go)
Blackmore
- Yes, it ’s all right. (He holds her close)
Mrs. Holroyd
- Is it?
Blackmore
- Yes, it is. It ’s all right.
- [He kisses her again. She releases herself but holds his hand. They keep listening.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Do you love me?
Blackmore
- What do you ask for?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Have I hurt you these months?
Blackmore
- You have n’t. And I don’t care what it ’s been if you ’ll come with me. (There is a noise upstairs and they wait) You will soon, won’t you?
- [She kisses him.
Mrs. Holroyd
- He ’s not safe. (She disengages herself and sits on the sofa)
Mrs. Holroyd
- How wait?
Blackmore
- And not have married hin.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I might never have known you—I married him to get out of my place.
Blackmore
- Why?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I was left an orphan when I was six. My Uncle John brought me up, in the Coach and Horses at Rainsworth. He ’d got no children. He was good to me, but he drank. I went to Mansfield Grammar School. Then he fell out with me because I would n’t wait in the bar, and I went as nursery governess to Berryman’s. And I felt I ’d nowhere to go, I belonged to nowhere, and nobody cared about me, and men came after me, and I hated it. So to get out of it, I married the first man that turned up.
Blackmore
- And you never cared about him?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes, I did. I did care about him. I wanted to be a wife to him. But there ’s nothing at the bottom of him, if you know what I mean. You can’t get anywhere with him. There ’s just his body and nothing else. Nothing that keeps him, no anchor, no roots, nothing satisfying. It ’s a horrible feeling there is about him, that nothing is safe or permanent—nothing is anything—
Blackmore
- And do you think you can trust me?
Mrs. Holroyd
- I think you ’re different from him.
Blackmore
- Perhaps I ’m not.
Mrs. Holroyd (warmly)
- You are.
Blackmore
- At any rate, we ’ll see. You ‘ll come on Saturday to London?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Well, you see, there ’s my money. I have n’t got it yet. My uncle has left me about a hundred and twenty pounds.
Blackmore
- Well, see the lawyer about it as soon as you can. I can let you have some money if you want any. But don’t let us wait after Saturday.
Mrs. Holroyd
- But is n’t it wrong?
Blackmore
- Why, if you don’t care for him, and the children are miserable between the two of you—which they are—
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes.
Blackmore
- Well, then I see no wrong. As for him—he would go one way, and only one way, whatever you do. Damn him, he does n’t matter.
Mrs. Holroyd
- No.
Blackmore
- Well, then—have done with it. Can’t you cut clean of him? Can’t you now?
Mrs. Holroyd
- And then—the children—
Blackmore
- They ’ll be all right with me and you—won’t they?
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes—
Blackmore
- Well, then. Now, come and have done with it. We can’t keep on being ripped in two like this. We need never hear of him any more.
Mrs. Holroyd
- Yes—I love you. I do love you—
Blackmore
- Oh, my God! (He speaks with difficulty—embracing her)
Mrs. Holroyd
- When I look at him, and then at you—ha—(she gives a short laugh)
Blackmore
- He ’s had all the chance—it ’s only fair—Lizzie—
Mrs. Holroyd
- My love.
- [There is silence. He keeps his arm round her. After hesitating, he picks up his cap.
Blackmore
- I ’ll go then—at any rate. Shall you come with me?
- [She follows him, to the door.
Mrs. Holroyd
- I ’ll come on Saturday.
Blackmore
- Not now?
CURTAIN