ear, forget about Gerald now. Don't think about him; think
about yourself.

BOB. I shan't think about myself or about Gerald when I'm in prison. I
shall only think of you.

PAMELA. Will it help you to think of me?

BOB. You're the only person in the world I've got to think of. I found
you first--and then Gerald took you from me. Just as he's always taken
everything from me.

PAMELA. No, no. Not about Gerald again. Let's get away from Gerald.

BOB. You can't. He's a devil to get away from. (There is silence for a
little.) When I was a small boy, I used to pray very hard on the last
day of the holidays for a telegram to come saying that the school had
been burnt down.... It never had.

PAMELA. Oh, Bob!

BOB. I suppose I've got about ten minutes more. But nothing will happen.

PAMELA (in a hopeless effort to be hopeful). Perhaps after all you
might--

BOB. Why can't the world end suddenly now? It wouldn't matter to
anybody. They wouldn't know; they wouldn't have time to understand. (He
looks up and sees her face of distress and says) All right, Pamela, you
needn't worry. I'm going through with it all right.

PAMELA. You must keep thinking of the afterwards. Only of the
afterwards. The day when you come back to us.

BOB. Will that be such a very great day? (PAMELA is silent.) Triumphant
procession through the village. All the neighbours hurrying out to
welcome the young squire home. Great rush in the City to offer him
partnerships.

PAMELA (quietly). Do you want to go back to the City?

BOB. Good God, no!

PAMELA. Then why are you being sarcastic about it? Be honest with
yourself, Bob. You made a mess of the City. Oh, I know you weren't
suited to it, but men have had to do work they didn't like before now,
and they haven't _all_ made a mess of it. You're getting your punishment
now--much more than you deserve, and we're all sorry for you--but men
have been punished unfairly before now and they have stood it. You'll
have your chance when you come back; I'll stand by you for one, and
you've plenty of other friends; but we can't help a man who won't help
himself, you know.

Bon (sulkily). Thank you, Pamela.

PAMELA (shaking him). Bob, Bob, don't be such a baby. Oh, I want to
laugh at you, and yet my heart just aches for you. You're just a little
boy, Bob (with a sigh), on the last day of his holidays.

BOB (after a pause). Are you allowed to have letters in prison?

PAMELA. I expect so. Every now and th