SWEEDLE. [Suddenly seeing her, and dropping the lid of the washstand with a bang] h.e.l.lo! It's you!

RUTH. Yes.

SWEEDLE. There's only me here! They don't waste their time hurrying down in the morning. Why, it must be two years since we had the pleasure of seeing you. [Nervously] What have you been doing with yourself?

RUTH. [Sardonically] Living.

SWEEDLE. [Impressed] If you want to see him [he points to c.o.kESON'S chair], he'll be here directly--never misses--not much. [Delicately]

I hope our friend's back from the country. His time's been up these three months, if I remember. [RUTH nods] I was awful sorry about that. The governor made a mistake--if you ask me.

RUTH. He did.

SWEEDLE. He ought to have given him a chanst. And, I say, the judge ought to ha' let him go after that. They've forgot what human nature's like. Whereas we know. [RUTH gives him a honeyed smile]

SWEEDLE. They come down on you like a cartload of bricks, flatten you out, and when you don't swell up again they complain of it. I know 'em--seen a lot of that sort of thing in my time. [He shakes his head in the plenitude of wisdom] Why, only the other day the governor----

But c.o.kESON has come in through the outer office; brisk with east wind, and decidedly greyer.

c.o.kESON. [Drawing off his coat and gloves] Why! it's you! [Then motioning SWEEDLE out, and closing the door] Quite a stranger! Must be two years. D'you want to see me? I can give you a minute. Sit down! Family well?

RUTH. Yes. I'm not living where I was.

c.o.kESON. [Eyeing her askance] I hope things are more comfortable at home.

RUTH. I couldn't stay with Honeywill, after all.

c.o.kESON. You haven't done anything rash, I hope. I should be sorry if you'd done anything rash.

RUTH. I've kept the children with me.

c.o.kESON. [Beginning to feel that things are not so jolly as ha had hoped] Well, I'm glad to have seen you. You've not heard from the young man, I suppose, since he came out?

RUTH. Yes, I ran across him yesterday.

c.o.kESON. I hope he's well.

RUTH. [With sudden fierceness] He can't get anything to do. It's dreadful to see him. He's just skin and bone.

c.o.kESON. [With genuine concern] Dear me! I'm sorry to hear that.

[On his guard again] Didn't they find him a place when his time was up?

RUTH. He was only there three weeks. It got out.

c.o.kESON. I'm sure I don't know what I can do for you. I don't like to be snubby.

RUTH. I can't bear his being like that.

c.o.kESON. [Scanning her not unprosperous figure] I know his relations aren't very forthy about him. Perhaps you can do something for him, till he finds his feet.

RUTH. Not now. I could have--but not now.

c.o.kESON. I don't understand.

RUTH. [Proudly] I've seen him again--that's all over.

c.o.kESON. [Staring at her--disturbed] I'm a family man--I don't want to hear anything unpleasant. Excuse me--I'm very busy.

RUTH. I'd have gone home to my people in the country long ago, but they've never got over me marrying Honeywill. I never was waywise, Mr. c.o.keson, but I'm proud. I was only a girl, you see, when I married him. I thought the world of him, of course . . . he used to come travelling to our farm.

c.o.kESON. [Regretfully] I did hope you'd have got on better, after you saw me.

RUTH. He used me worse than ever. He couldn't break my nerve, but I lost my health; and then he began knocking the children about. I couldn't stand that. I wouldn't go back now, if he were dying.

c.o.kESON. [Who has risen and is shifting about as though dodging a stream of lava] We mustn't be violent, must we?

RUTH. [Smouldering] A man that can't behave better than that-- [There is silence]

c.o.kESON. [Fascinated in spite of himself] Then there you were! And what did you do then?

RUTH. [With a shrug] Tried the same as when I left him before..., making skirts... cheap things. It was the best I could get, but I never made more than ten shillings a week, buying my own cotton and working all day; I hardly ever got to bed till past twelve. I kept at it for nine months. [Fiercely] Well, I'm not fit for that; I wasn't made for it. I'd rather die.

c.o.kESON. My dear woman! We mustn't talk like that.

RUTH. It was starvation for the children too--after what they'd always had. I soon got not to care. I used to be too tired. [She is silent]

c.o.kESON. [With fearful curiosity] Why, what happened then?

RUTH. [With a laugh] My employer happened then--he's happened ever since.

c.o.kESON. Dear! Oh dear! I never came across a thing like this.

RUTH. [Dully] He's treated me all right. But I've done with that.

[Suddenly her lips begin to quiver, and she hides them with the back of her hand] I never thought I'd see him again, you see. It was just a chance I met him by Hyde Park. We went in there and sat down, and he told me all about himself. Oh! Mr. c.o.keson, give him another chance.

c.o.kESON. [Greatly disturbed] Then you've both lost your livings!

What a horrible position!

RUTH. If he could only get here--where there's nothing to find out about him!

c.o.kESON. We can't have anything derogative to the firm.

RUTH. I've no one else to go to.

c.o.kESON. I'll speak to the partners, but I don't think they'll take him, under the circ.u.mstances. I don't really.

RUTH. He came with me; he's down there in the street. [She points to the window.]

c.o.kESON. [On his dignity] He shouldn't have done that until he's sent for. [Then softening at the look on her face] We've got a vacancy, as it happens, but I can't promise anything.