igs.

RUTH. Is it all ready for to-night?

FALDER. I've got the tickets. Meet me 11.45 at the booking office.
For God's sake don't forget we're man and wife! [Looking at her with
tragic intensity] Ruth!

RUTH. You're not afraid of going, are you?

FALDER. Have you got your things, and the children's?

RUTH. Had to leave them, for fear of waking Honeywill, all but one
bag. I can't go near home again.

FALDER. [Wincing] All that money gone for nothing.
How much must you have?

RUTH. Six pounds--I could do with that, I think.

FALDER. Don't give away where we're going. [As if to himself] When
I get out there I mean to forget it all.

RUTH. If you're sorry, say so. I'd sooner he killed me than take
you against your will.

FALDER. [With a queer smile] We've got to go. I don't care; I'll
have you.

RUTH. You've just to say; it's not too late.

FALDER. It is too late. Here's seven pounds. Booking office 11.45
to-night. If you weren't what you are to me, Ruth----!

RUTH. Kiss me!

They cling together passionately, there fly apart just as
COKESON re-enters the room. RUTH turns and goes out through the
outer office. COKESON advances deliberately to his chair and
seats himself.

COKESON. This isn't right, Falder.

FALDER. It shan't occur again, sir.

COKESON. It's an improper use of these premises.

FALDER. Yes, sir.

COKESON. You quite understand-the party was in some distress; and,
having children with her, I allowed my feelings----[He opens a
drawer and produces from it a tract] Just take this! "Purity in the
Home." It's a well-written thing.

FALDER. [Taking it, with a peculiar expression] Thank you, sir.

COKESON. And look here, Falder, before Mr. Walter comes, have you
finished up that cataloguing Davis had in hand before he left?

FALDER. I shall have done with it to-morrow, sir--for good.

COKESON. It's over a week since Davis went. Now it won't do,
Falder. You're neglecting your work for private life. I shan't
mention about the party having called, but----

FALDER. [Passing into his room] Thank you, sir.

COKESON stares at the door through which FALDER has gone out;
then shakes his head, and is just settling down to write, when
WALTER How comes in through the outer Office. He is a rather
refined-looking man of thirty-five, with a pleasant, almost
apologetic voice.

WALTER. Good-morning, Cokeson.