must see him--at once.

MRS. BURLACOMBE. I doubt bed's the best place for 'un, an' gude 'ot
drink. Burlacombe zays he'm like a man standin' on the edge of a
cliff; and the lasts tipsy o' wind might throw un over.

MRS. BRADMERE. [To BURLACOMBE] You've seen him, then?

BURLACOMBE. Yeas; an' I don't like the luke of un--not a little bit,
I don't.

MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Almost to herself] Poor soul; 'e've a-'ad to
much to try un this yer long time past. I've a-seen 'tis sperrit
cumin' thru 'is body, as yu might zay. He's torn to bits, that's
what 'tis.

BURLACOMBE. 'Twas a praaper cowardly thing to hiss a man when he's
down. But 'twas natural tu, in a manner of spakin'. But 'tesn't
that troublin' 'im. 'Tes in here [touching his forehead], along of
his wife, to my thinkin'. They zay 'e've a-known about 'er a-fore
she went away. Think of what 'e've 'ad to kape in all this time.
'Tes enough to drive a man silly after that. I've a-locked my gun
up. I see a man like--like that once before--an' sure enough 'e was
dead in the mornin'!

MRS. BRADMERE. Nonsense, Burlacombe! [To MRS. BURLACOMBE] Go and
tell him I want to see him--must see him. [MRS. BURLACOMBE goes
into the house] And look here, Burlacombe; if we catch any one, man
or woman, talking of this outside the village, it'll be the end of
their tenancy, whoever they may be. Let them all know that. I'm
glad he threw that drunken fellow out of the window, though it was a
little----

BURLACOMBE. Aye! The nuspapers would be praaper glad of that, for a
tiddy bit o' nuse.

MRS. BRADMERE. My goodness! Yes! The men are all up at the inn.
Go and tell them what I said--it's not to get about. Go at once,
Burlacombe.

BURLACOMBE. Must be a turrable job for 'im, every one's knowin'
about 'is wife like this. He'm a proud man tu, I think. 'Tes a
funny business altogether!

MRS. BRADMERE. Horrible! Poor fellow! Now, come! Do your best,
Burlacombe!

[BURLACOMBE touches his forelock and goes. MRS. BRADMERE stands
quite still, thinking. Then going to the photograph, she stares
up at it.]

MRS. BRADMERE. You baggage!

[STRANGWAY has come in noiselessly, and is standing just behind
her. She turns, and sees him. There is something so still, so
startlingly still in his figure and white face, that she cannot
for the moment fond her voice.]

MRS. BRADMERE. [At last] This is most distressing. I'm deep