He seemed to think that my
father--that perhaps my father--might be nothing of the sort!
AUNTIE. Why, who was he--the man?
MARY. He wouldn't tell me his name: I mistook him for a thief at
first; but afterwards I felt very, very sorry for him. You see,
his case was rather like my own. _He was wishing for his little
girl_.
[There is a short silence.]
VICAR. Where did you meet with him?
MARY. Here, in this room.
AUNTIE. When was this?
MARY. A few minutes ago--just before you came in.
AUNTIE. Where is he now?
MARY. He said good-bye. He has gone away.
AUNTIE. For good?
MARY. Yes, I think so: I understood him to mean that.
VICAR. Was he--a rough-looking man?
MARY. Dreadfully; and he swore once--but afterwards he said he was
sorry for that.
VICAR. Did he frighten you at all?
MARY. No, not exactly frighten: you see, I felt sorry for him.
VICAR [slowly]. _And he wouldn't tell you his name_? . . .
MARY. No: I asked him, but he wouldn't.
[The VICAR ponders this for a moment.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101