)
CRICHTON. Shall I withdraw, my lord? (He withdraws without a tremor,
TWEENY accompanying him. They can all breathe again; the
thunderstorm is over.)
LADY BROCKLEHURST (thankful to have made herself unpleasant). Horrid
of me, wasn't it? But if one wasn't disagreeable now and again, it
would be horribly tedious to be an old woman. He will soon be yours,
Mary, and then--think of the opportunities you will have of being
disagreeable to me. On that understanding, my dear, don't you think
we might--? (Their cold lips meet.)
LORD LOAM (vaguely). Quite so--quite so. (CRICHTON announces dinner,
and they file out. LADY MARY stays behind a moment and impulsively
holds out her hand.)
LADY MARY. To wish you every dear happiness.
CRICHTON (an enigma to the last.) The same to you, my lady.
LADY MARY. Do you despise me, Crichton? (The man who could never
tell a lie makes no answer.) You are the best man among us.
CRICHTON. On an island, my lady, perhaps; but in England, no.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150