Agnes.Oh, the brute! the big brute! But she didn't consent, did she?
Lucy.Of course. The man she had loved was dead. The new person she was indifferent to.
Agnes.But how—but you don't suggest that Mr. Reddell could behave like that? he couldn't. He wouldn't, I feel certain. But there must surely have been something else; I can't believe that any man would behave so utterly unfeelingly—so brutally. They say there are always two sides to every story. Mayn't there have been some reason that you knew nothing about? Mayn't she have done something? She must have been a little bit to blame, too, and this side of the story you never heard.
Lucy.Yes—it is possible.
Agnes.I can't think that any man would deliberately behave so like a cad as you say he did.
Lucy.It may have been her fault. I used to think it might be—just a little, as you say.
Agnes.Well, it sha'n't be mine at all events. I won't give any cause—besides even if I did——— Oh, no, it is utterly impossible to imagine such a thing!
Lucy.I hope it is, for your sake.
Agnes.Of course it is; of that I am quite certain. And you don't think it is very wrong of me to—to———
Lucy.To say Yes to a man you love. No, my dear, that can never be wrong, although it may be foolish.
Agnes.From a worldly point of view, perhaps; but I should never have thought that you———
Lucy.I didn't mean that. But love seems to grow so quickly when you once allow it to do so, that it is sometimes wiser to———but never mind, bring him to see me, and—and may you be happy.[A long pause.]
