FERRAND. [Calmly.] On my honour, Monsieur!

[TIMSON growls.]

WELLWYN. Now, now, Timson!

TIMSON. That's all right. You're a gen'leman, an' I'm a gen'leman,
but he ain't an' she ain't.

WELLWYN. We shall not believe you.

BERTLEY. No, no; we shall not believe you.

TIMSON. [Heavily.] Very well, you doubts my word. Will it make
any difference, Guv'nor, if I speaks the truth?

BERTLEY. No, certainly not--that is--of course, it will.

TIMSON. Well, then, I see 'em plainer than I see [pointing at
BERTLEY] the two of you.

WELLWYN. Be quiet, Timson!

BERTLEY. Not even her husband believes you.

MEGAN. [Suddenly.] Don't I!

WELLWYN. Come, Megan, you can see the old fellow's in Paradise.

BERTLEY. Do you credit such a--such an object?

[He points at TIMSON, who seems falling asleep.]

MEGAN. Naow!

[Unseen by anybody, ANN has returned.]

BERTLEY. Well, then, my boy?

MEGAN. I seen 'em meself.

BERTLEY. Gracious! But just now you were will----

MEGAN. [Sardonically.] There wasn't nothing against me honour,
then. Now you've took it away between you, cumin' aht with it like
this. I don't want no more of 'er, and I'll want a good deal more
of 'im; as 'e'll soon find.

[He jerks his chin at FERRAND, turns slowly on his heel, and
goes out into the street.]

[There follows a profound silence.]

ANN. What did I say, Daddy? Utter! All three.

[Suddenly alive to her presence, they all turn.]

TIMSON. [Waking up and looking round him.] Well, p'raps I'd better
go.

[Assisted by WELLWYN he lurches gingerly off the dais towards
the door, which WELLWYN holds open for him.]

TIMSON. [Mechanically.] Where to, sir?

[Receiving no answer he passes out, touching his hat; and the
door is closed.]

WELLWYN. Ann!

[ANN goes back whence she came.]

[BERTLEY, steadily regarding MRS. MEGAN, who has put her arm up
in front of her face, beckons to FERRAND, and the young man
comes gravely forward.]

BERTLEY. Young people, this is very dreadful. [MRS. MEGAN lowers
her arm a little, and looks at him over it.] Very sad!

MRS. MEGAN. [Dropping her arm.] Megan's no better than what I am.

BERTLEY. Come, come! Here's your home broken up! [MRS. MEGAN
Smiles. Shaking his head gravely.] Surely-surely-you mustn't
smile. [MRS. MEGAN becomes tragic.] That's better. Now, what is
to be done?

F