hers, MANSON'S arm round the lad's shoulders.]
[MARY is left seated on the table, chuckling at the situation.
Suddenly her face becomes serious again: she is lost in thought.
After a while she speaks softly to herself.]
MARY. What have I needed most? What have I not had? . . . Oh! I
know! . . .
[Her face flames with the sudden inspiration.]
And I never dreamed of it till now!
[ROBERT enters by the main door. The child turns round, and,
seeing him, gives a startled little cry. They stand facing each
other, silent. Presently ROBERT falters.]
ROBERT. Beg pawdon, miss: I . . .
MARY. Who are you? What are you doing here?
ROBERT. I'm . . .
I was goin' ter see what's--what's in that room . . .
MARY. If you do, I'll . . .
[She moves swiftly to the bell.]
ROBERT. It's a mistake, miss. P'r'aps I'd--I'd better tek my 'ook.
MARY. Stop! . . .
How dare you! Don't you know you're a very wicked man?
ROBERT. Me, miss?
MARY. Yes, you.
ROBERT. Yus, I know it.
MARY [trying to save the sinner]. That isn't the way to be happy,
you know. Thieves are never _really_ happy in their hearts.
ROBERT. Wot's that? . . .
Do you tike me for a thief, miss? You? . . .
[He advances to the table: she edges away.]
Why don't you arnser?
MARY. I had rather not say.
ROBERT. Cos why?
MARY. I don't want to be unkind.
[ROBERT sinks stricken into the chair behind him.]
ROBERT, Oh, my Gawd, my Gawd!
MARY [relenting]. Of course, if--if you're sorry, that makes a
difference. Being sorry makes a lot of difference. Doesn't it?
ROBERT. Yus, a fat lot!
MARY. Only you must never give way to such a wicked temptation
again. Oh, don't cry! [She goes to him.]
ROBERT. Oo is cryin'? I'm not cryin'--not a cryin' sort!
On'y--you 'adn't no right to talk to me like that, miss.
MARY. Why, didn't you own . . .
ROBERT. No, I didn't. It was you as jumped down my throat, an'
took up my words afore I got 'em out.
MARY. Oh: I'm sorry. Did I make a mistake?
ROBERT. Yus, miss--a whopper.
MARY. Then you're not a . . .
ROBERT. _No_, swelp me Gaw-- [He pulls himself up.] I assure
you, no. I'm a bit of a low un; but I never come so stinkin' low
as that.
You thought I looked like one, all the same. Didn't yer, now?
MARY. Well, you see, I thought you said so; and then there's your
. . .
ROBERT. I know! You don't like my mug. It ain't much of a mug to
|