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young man of yours？
MRS。 MEGAN。 'E'll be twenty soon。
WELLWYN。 Babes in the wood！ Does he treat you badly？
MRS。 MEGAN。 No。
WELLWYN。 Nor drink？
MRS。 MEGAN。 No。 He's not a bad one。 Only he gets playin'
cards then 'e'll fly the kite。
WELLWYN。 I see。 And when he's not flying it； what does he do？
MRS。 MEGAN。 ＇Touching her basket。＇ Same as me。 Other jobs tires 'im。
WELLWYN。 That's very nice！ ＇He checks himself。＇ Well； what am I to
do with you？
MRS。 MEGAN。 Of course； I could get me night's lodging if I like to
dothe same as some of them。
WELLWYN。 No！ no！ Never； my child！ Never！
MRS。 MEGAN。 It's easy that way。
WELLWYN。 Heavens！ But your husband！ Um？
MRS。 MEGAN。 ＇With stoical vindictiveness。＇ He's after one I know of。
WELLWYN。 Tt！ What a pickle！
MRS。 MEGAN。 I'll 'ave to walk about the streets。
WELLWYN。 ＇To himself。＇ Now how can I？
＇MRS。 MEGAN looks up and smiles at him； as if she had already
discovered that he is peculiar。＇
WELLWYN。 You see； the fact is； I mustn't give you anythingbecause
well； for one thing I haven't got it。 There are other reasons； but
that's thereal one。 But； now； there's a little room where my
models dress。 I wonder if you could sleep there。 Come； and see。
＇The Girl gets up lingeringly； loth to leave the warmth。 She
takes up her wet stockings。
MRS。 MEGAN。 Shall I put them on again？
WELLWYN。 No； no； there's a nice warm pair of slippers。 ＇Seeing the
steam rising from her。＇ Why； you're wet all over。 Here； wait a
little！
＇He crosses to the door into the house； and after stealthy
listening； steps through。 The Girl； like a cat； steals back to
the warmth of the fire。 WELLWYN returns with a candle； a
canary…coloured bath gown； and two blankets。＇
WELLWYN。 Now then！ ＇He precedes her towards the door of the model's
room。＇ Hsssh！ ＇He opens the door and holds up the candle to show
her the room。＇ Will it do？ There's a couch。 You'll find some
washing things。 Make yourself quite at home。 See！
＇The Girl； perfectly dumb； passes through with her basketand
her shoes and stockings。 WELLWYN hands her the candle；
blankets； and bath gown。
WELLWYN。 Have a good sleep； child！ Forget that you're alive！
＇He closes the door； mournfully。＇ Done it again！ ＇He goes to the
table； cuts a large slice of cake； knocks on the door； and hands it
in。＇ Chow…chow！ ＇Then； as he walks away； he sights the opposite
door。＇ Welldamn it； what could I have done？ Not a farthing on me！
＇He goes to the street door to shut it； but first opens it wide to
confirm himself in his hospitality。＇ Night like this！
＇A sputter of snow is blown in his face。 A voice says：
〃Monsieur； pardon！〃 WELLWYN recoils spasmodically。 A figure
moves from the lamp…post to the doorway。 He is seen to be young
and to have ragged clothes。 He speaks again： 〃You do not
remember me； Monsieur？ My name is Ferrandit was in Paris； in
the Champs…Elyseesby the fountain 。 。 。 。 When you came to
the door； MonsieurI am not made of iron 。 。 。 。 Tenez；
here is your card I have never lost it。〃 He holds out to WELLWYN
an old and dirty wing card。 As inch by inch he has advanced
into the doorway； the light from within falls on him； a tall
gaunt young pagan with fair hair and reddish golden stubble of
beard； a long ironical nose a little to one side； and large；
grey； rather prominent eyes。 There is a certain grace in his
figure and movements； his clothes are nearly dropping off him。
WELLWYN。 ＇Yielding to a pleasant memory。＇ Ah！ yes。 By the
fountain。 I was sitting there； and you came and ate a roll； and
drank the water。
FERRAND。 ＇With faint eagerness。＇ My breakfast。 I was in poverty
veree bad off。 You gave me ten francs。 I thought I had a little the
right ＇WELLWYN makes a movement of disconcertion＇ seeing you said
that if I came to England
WELLWYN。 Um！ And so you've come？
FERRAND。 It was time that I consolidated my fortunes； Monsieur。
WELLWYN。 And youhave
＇He stops embarrassed。 FERRAND。 ＇Shrugging his ragged
shoulders。＇ One is not yet Rothschild。
WELLWYN。 ＇Sympathetically。＇ No。 ＇Yielding to memory。＇ We talked
philosophy。
FERRAND。 I have not yet changed my opinion。 We other vagabonds； we
are exploited by the bourgeois。 This is always my idea； Monsieur。
WELLWYN。 Yesnot quite the general view； perhaps！ Well
＇Heartily。＇ Come in！ Very glad to see you again。
FERRAND。 ＇Brushing his arms over his eyes。＇ Pardon； Monsieuryour
goodnessI am a little weak。 ＇He opens his coat； and shows a belt
drawn very tight over his ragged shirt。＇ I tighten him one hole for
each meal； during two days now。 That gives you courage。
WELLWYN。 ＇With cooing sounds； pouring out tea； and adding rum。＇ Have
some of this。 It'll buck you up。 ＇He watches the young man drink。
FERRAND。 ＇Becoming a size larger。＇ Sometimes I think that I will
never succeed to dominate my life； Monsieurthough I have no vices；
except that I guard always the aspiration to achieve success。 But I
will not roll myself under the machine of existence to gain a nothing
every day。 I must find with what to fly a little。
WELLWYN。 ＇Delicately。＇ Yes； yesI remember； you found it difficult
to stay long in any particularyes。
FERRAND。 ＇Proudly。＇ In one little corner？ NoMonsieurnever！
That is not in my character。 I must see life。
WELLWYN。 Quite； quite！ Have some cake？
＇He cuts cake。＇
FERRAND。 In your country they say you cannot eat the cake and have
it。 But one must always try； Monsieur； one must never be content。
＇Refusing the cake。＇ 'Grand merci'； but for the moment I have no
stomachI have lost my stomach now for two days。 If I could smoke；
Monsieur！ ＇He makes the gesture of smoking。＇
WELLWYN。 Rather！ ＇Handing his tobacco pouch。＇ Roll yourself one。
FERRAND。 ＇Rapidly rolling a cigarette。＇ If I had not found you；
MonsieurI would have been a little hole in the river to…night
I was so discouraged。 ＇He inhales and puffs a long luxurious whif of
smoke。 Very bitterly。＇ Life！ ＇He disperses the puff of smoke with
his finger； and stares before him。＇ And to think that in a few
minutes HE will be born！ Monsieur！ ＇He gazes intently at WELLWYN。＇
The world would reproach you for your goodness to me。
WELLWYN。 ＇Looking uneasily at the door into the house。＇ You think
so？ Ah！
FERRAND。 Monsieur； if HE himself were on earth now； there would be a
little heap of gentlemen writing to the journals every day to call
Him sloppee sentimentalist！ And what is veree funny； these gentlemen
they would all be most strong Christians。 ＇He regards WELLWYN
deeply。＇ But that will not trouble you； Monsieur； I saw well from
the first that you are no Christian。 You have so kind a face。
WELLWYN。 Oh！ Indeed！
FERRAND。 You have not enough the Pharisee in your character。 You do
not judge； and you are judged。
＇He stretches his limbs as if in pain。＇
WELLWYN。 Are you in pain？
FERRAND。 I 'ave a little the rheumatism。
WELLWYN。 Wet