And we shall
be dead, Guy dear dead and cast into the outer darkness where
there is
He. Love at least. Isn't that enough?
She. I have said so.
He. And you think so still?
She. What do you think?
He. What have I done? It means equal ruin to me, as the world
reckons it outcasting, the loss of my appointment, the breaking off
my life's work. I pay my price.
She. And are you so much above the world that you can afford to
pay it. Am I?
He. My Divinity what else?
She. A very ordinary woman, I'm afraid, but so far, respectable.
How d'you do, Mrs. Middle-ditch? Your husband? I think he's
riding down to Annandale with Colonel Statters. Yes, isn't it divine
after the rain? Guy, how long am I to be allowed to bow to Mrs.
Middleditch? Till the 17th?
He. Frowsy Scotchwoman! What is the use of bringing her into the
discussion? You were saying?
She. Nothing. Have you ever seen a man hanged?
He. Yes. Once.
She. What was it for?
He. Murder, of course.
She. Murder. Is that so great a sin after all? I wonder how he felt
before the drop fell.
He. I don't think he felt much. What a gruesome little woman it is
this evening! You're shivering. Put on your cape, dear.
She. I think I will. Oh! Look at the mist coming over Sanjaoli; and
I thought we should have sunshine on the Ladies' Mile! Let's turn
back.
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