on the electric light. It awakens CRICHTON from a reverie in
which he has been regarding her.)

CRICHTON. Polly, there is only one thing about you that I don't quite
like. (She looks up, making a moue, if that can be said of one who so
well knows her place. He explains.) That action of the hands.

LADY MARY. What do I do?

CRICHTON. So--like one washing them. I have noticed that the others tend
to do it also. It seems odd.

LADY MARY (archly). Oh Gov., have you forgotten?

CRICHTON. What?

LADY MARY. That once upon a time a certain other person did that.

CRICHTON (groping). You mean myself? (She nods, and he shudders.)
Horrible!

LADY MARY (afraid she has hurt him). You haven't for a very long time.
Perhaps it is natural to servants.

CRICHTON. That must be it. (He rises.) Polly! (She looks up expectantly,
but he only sighs and turns away.)

LADY MARY (gently). You sighed, Gov.

CRICHTON. Did I? I was thinking. (He paces the room and then turns
to her agitatedly, yet with control over his agitation. There is some
mournfulness in his voice.) I have always tried to do the right thing on
this island. Above all, Polly, I want to do the right thing by you.

LADY MARY (with shining eyes). How we all trust you. That is your
reward, Gov.

CRICHTON (who is having a fight with himself). And now I want a greater
reward. Is it fair to you? Am I playing the game? Bill Crichton would
like always to play the game. If we were in England--(He pauses so long
that she breaks in softly.)

LADY MARY. We know now that we shall never see England again.

CRICHTON. I am thinking of two people whom neither of us has seen for a
long time--Lady Mary Lasenby, and one Crichton, a butler. (He says the
last word bravely, a word he once loved, though it is the most horrible
of all words to him now.)

LADY MARY. That cold, haughty, insolent girl. Gov., look around you and
forget them both.

CRICHTON. I had nigh forgotten them. He has had a chance, Polly--that
butler--in these two years of becoming a man, and he has tried to take
it. There have been many failures, but there has been some success, and
with it I have let the past drop off me, and turned my back on it. That
butler seems a far-away figure to me now, and not myself. I hail him,
but we scarce know each other. If I am to bring him back it can only
be done by force, for in my soul he is now abhorrent to me. But if I
thought it best for you I'd haul him back; I swear as an