said a word. I think this Harriet Herriott—it's like a name in a book—is an interfering old Thing.
Captain G. (aside).—So long as you thoroughly understand that she is old, I don't much care what you think. (Aloud.) Very good, dear. Would you like to write and tell her so? She's seven thousand miles away.
Mrs. G.—I don't want to have anything to do with her; but you ought to have told me. (Turning to last page of letter.) And she patronizes me, too. I've never seen her! (Reads.) "I do not know how the world stands with you. In all human probability I shall never know, but whatever I may have said before, I pray for her sake more than for yours that all may be well. I have learnt what misery means, and I dare not wish that any one dear to you should share my knowledge."
Captain G.—Good God! Can't you leave that letter alone, or, at least, can't you refrain from reading it aloud? I've been through it once. Put it back on the desk. Do you hear me?
Mrs. G. (irresolutely).—I sh—shan't! (Looks at G'.s eyes.) Oh, Pip, please! I didn't mean to make you angry—'Deed, I didn't. Pip, I'm so sorry. I know I've wasted your time . . .
Captain G. (grimly).—You have. Now, will you be good enough to go . . . if there is nothing more in my room that you are anxious to pry into?
Mrs. G. (putting out her hands).—Oh, Pip, don't look at me like that! I've never seen you look like that before, and it hu-urts me! I'm sorry. I oughtn't to have been here at all, and—and—and-(sobbing). Oh, be good to me! Be good to me! There's only you-anywhere!
Breaks down in long chair, hiding face in cushions.
Captain G. (aside).—She doesn't know how she flicked me on the raw. (Aloud, bending over chair.) I didn't mean to be harsh, dear—I didn't really. You can stay here as long as you please, and do what you please. Don't cry like
