w. 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 all
Christian society would wish. Come! You can't let this go on. My
dear man, do your duty at all costs!

STRANGWAY. Break her heart?

MRS. BRADMERE. Then you love that woman--more than God!

STRANGWAY. [His face quivering] Love!

MRS. BRADMERE. They told me----Yes, and I can see you're is a bad
way. Come, pull yourself together! You can't defend what you're
doing.

STRANGWAY. I do not try.

MRS. BRADMERE. I must get you to see! My father was a clergyman;
I'm married to one; I've two sons in the Church. I know what I'm
talking about. It's a priest's business to guide the people's lives.

STRANGWAY. [Very low] But not mine! No more!

MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him shrewdly] There's something very
queer about you to-night. You ought to see doctor.

STRANGWAY. [A smile awning and going on his lips] If I am not better
soon----

MRS. BRADMERE. I know it must be terrible to feel that everybody----

[A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks
against the door]

But come! Live it down!

[With anger growing at his silence]

Live it down, man! You can't desert your post--and let these
villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're
letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;--yes, abominably
--go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an
example!

STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that!

MRS. BRADMERE