our principles. I never
did anything of the sort myself.

JACK. I expect you always had lots of money. If you've got plenty
of money, of course----

BARTHWICK. On the contrary, I had not your advantages. My father
kept me very short of money.

JACK. How much had you, dad?

BARTHWICK. It's not material. The question is, do you feel the
gravity of what you did?

JACK. I don't know about the gravity. Of course, I 'm very sorry
if you think it was wrong. Have n't I said so! I should never have
done it at all if I had n't been so jolly hard up.

BARTHWICK. How much of that forty pounds have you got left, Jack?

JACK. [Hesitating.] I don't know--not much.

BARTHWICK. How much?

JACK. [Desperately.] I have n't got any.

BARTHWICK. What?

JACK. I know I 've got the most beastly headache.

[He leans his head on his hand.]

MRS. BARTHWICK. Headache? My dear boy! Can't you eat any
breakfast?

JACK. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad!

MRS. BARTHWICK. I'm so sorry. Come with me; dear; I'll give you
something that will take it away at once.

[They leave the room; and BARTHWICK, tearing up the letter,
goes to the fireplace and puts the pieces in the fire. While
he is doing this MARLOW comes in, and looking round him, is
about quietly to withdraw.]

BARTHWICK. What's that? What d 'you want?

MARLOW. I was looking for Mr. John, sir.

BARTHWICK. What d' you want Mr. John for?

MARLOW. [With hesitation.] I thought I should find him here, sir.

BARTHWICK. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do you want him for?

MARLOW. [Offhandedly.] There's a lady called--asked to speak to
him for a minute, sir.

BARTHWICK. A lady, at this time in the morning. What sort of a
lady?

MARLOW. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't tell, sir; no
particular sort. She might be after charity. She might be a Sister
of Mercy, I should think, sir.

BARTHWICK. Is she dressed like one?

MARLOW. No, sir, she's in plain clothes, sir.

BARTHWICK. Did n't she say what she wanted?

MARLOW. No sir.

BARTHWICK. Where did you leave her?

MARLOW. In the hall, sir.

BARTHWICK. In the hall? How do you know she's not a thief--not got
designs on the house?

MARLOW. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir.

BARTHWICK. Well, show her in here; I'll see her myself.

[MARLOW goes out with a private gesture of dismay. He soon
returns, ushering in a young