ll take your own way as he took it. I have no power. (She sits down
sullenly on the railed seat.) I'm only a woman: I can do nothing but
sit here and suffer. Only, tell him I tried to save you--that I did my
best to save you.

ANDERSON. My dear, I am afraid he will be thinking more of his own
danger than of mine.

JUDITH. Stop; or I shall hate you.

ANDERSON (remonstrating). Come, am I to leave you if you talk like
this! your senses. (He turns to Essie.) Essie.

ESSIE (eagerly rising and drying her eyes). Yes?

ANDERSON. Just wait outside a moment, like a good girl: Mrs. Anderson
is not well. (Essie looks doubtful.) Never fear: I'll come to you
presently; and I'll go to Dick.

ESSIE. You are sure you will go to him? (Whispering.) You won't let her
prevent you?

ANDERSON (smiling). No, no: it's all right. All right. (She goes.)
That's a good girl. (He closes the door, and returns to Judith.)

JUDITH (seated--rigid). You are going to your death.

ANDERSON (quaintly). Then I shall go in my best coat, dear. (He turns
to the press, beginning to take off his coat.) Where--? (He stares at
the empty nail for a moment; then looks quickly round to the fire;
strides across to it; and lifts Richard's coat.) Why, my dear, it seems
that he has gone in my best coat.

JUDITH (still motionless). Yes.

ANDERSON. Did the soldiers make a mistake?

JUDITH. Yes: they made a mistake.

ANDERSON. He might have told them. Poor fellow, he was too upset, I
suppose.

JUDITH. Yes: he might have told them. So might I.

ANDERSON. Well, it's all very puzzling--almost funny. It's curious how
these little things strike us even in the most-- (he breaks off and
begins putting on Richard's coat) I'd better take him his own coat. I
know what he'll say-- (imitating Richard's sardonic manner) "Anxious
about my soul, Pastor, and also about your best coat." Eh?

JUDITH. Yes, that is just what he will say to you. (Vacantly.) It
doesn't matter: I shall never see either of you again.

ANDERSON (rallying her). Oh pooh, pooh, pooh! (He sits down beside
her.) Is this how you keep your promise that I shan't be ashamed of my
brave wife?

JUDITH. No: this is how I break it. I cannot keep my promises to him:
why should I keep my promises to you?

ANDERSON. Don't speak so strangely, my love. It sounds insincere to me.
(She looks unutterable reproach at him.) Yes, dear, nonsense is always
insincere; and my dearest is talking nonsense. Just nonsense.