ly
sorry. [Then, as he does not answer, she goes a step closer] I'm an
old woman; and old women must take liberties, you know, or they
couldn't get on at all. Come now! Let's try and talk it over calmly
and see if we can't put things right.

STRANGWAY. You were very good to come; but I would rather not.

MRS. BRADMERE. I know you're in as grievous trouble as a man can be.

STRANGWAY. Yes.

MRS. BRADMERE. [With a little sound of sympathy] What are you--
thirty-five? I'm sixty-eight if I'm a day--old enough to be your
mother. I can feel what you must have been through all these months,
I can indeed. But you know you've gone the wrong way to work. We
aren't angels down here below! And a son of the Church can't act as
if for himself alone. The eyes of every one are on him.

STRANGWAY. [Taking the church key from the window.] Take this,
please.

MRS. BRADMERE. No, no, no! Jarland deserved all he got. You had
great provocation.

STRANGWAY. It's not Jarland. [Holding out the key] Please take it
to the Rector. I beg his forgiveness. [Touching his breast]
There's too much I can't speak of--can't make plain. Take it to him,
please.

MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway--I don't accept this. I am sure my
husband--the Church--will never accept----

STRANGWAY. Take it!

MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't
accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're
overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then.

STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind]
Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful!

MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who
want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you.
Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it
would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me----?

STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you.

MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if
you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I
mean. We dare not foster immorality.

STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that!

MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you
can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can
never help her to go on like this in secret sin.

STRANGWAY. Torture her--one way or the other?

MRS. BRADMERE. No, no; I want you to do as the Church--as a