ALMA. Not twenty words. I might have been a stranger. (_half to herself_) When those we would forgive won't let us forgive them, what are we to do?

SUSAN. Whatever we like; _I_ should! Would you be friends with him?

ALMA. I thought not. I thought I had forgotten him. But when I saw him standing by my side, and heard his voice, oh, you don't know how the old time came back to me, and how I longed for the old home. (_a ring below_)

SUSAN. There's the bell, miss. (_Exit, L.C._)

ALMA. And is it never to be mine again? Is he to go out of my life forever? Or if he meets me, is it to be as a stranger? Is he to sit near me, and never speak to me? Am I, who once was everything to him, to be nothing? (_rises; crosses to table_) No, oh, no! He is a man, and he can bear it; I'm only a woman, and I can't. My pride has all gone--gone, I don't know where! Six years of loneliness have used it up. I don't care who was right--I don't care who was wrong--I want him back again. (_sits L. of table_)

_Re-enter SUSAN, L.C., with NED._

NED. Good morning. (_Exit SUSAN, L.C._)

ALMA. (_rising_) Ned! What brings you here so early?

NED. What's this I hear from d.i.c.k? He says you've given him notice.

ALMA. So I have.

NED. Then who's to play your part?

ALMA. Oh, there are lots of women.

NED. Only one Alma Blake.

ALMA. I'm very sorry, for your sake.

NED. If, now my piece is really coming out, after all these postponements, you refuse to play in it, you can't be sorry for me, Miss Blake.

ALMA. Miss Blake?

NED. Yes, Miss Blake. It was Miss Blake that spoke--it's Miss Blake who's thrown up her part--but it's Alma who's going to play.

ALMA. Don't make too sure of that. (_crosses R._)

NED. You don't consider my feelings in the least. Do you suppose it's all the same to me who speaks my lines?

ALMA. You'll get them better spoken, I daresay.

NED. Very well--someone else _shall_ speak them. (_crosses to C._)

ALMA. No, they shan't.

NED. You'll play the part, after all! (_puts hat and stick down on chair, L. of table_)

ALMA. I meant to play it all the time, you goose! I've no idea of leaving d.i.c.k. I only want five pounds a week more salary.

NED. That's a weight off my mind. (_crosses to sofa; sits_) You can't believe how sensitive I am about this play. It is the only link between me and my wife. I sometimes think that if she saw it it might bring her back to me. That is the reason I'm so anxious about it.

ALMA. Of course, she'd recognise the letter.

NED. What can have become of her?

ALMA. Nothing been heard yet?

NED. Not since she was traced to Leeds; there the clue was lost.

ALMA. Did she know anybody there?

NED. Not that I know of. What is she doing? What can she be living on?

Alma, it drives me nearly mad sometimes. (_rises; gets back, L._)

_Re-enter SUSAN, L.C., with d.i.c.k._

SUSAN. Here's Mr. d.i.c.k, miss. (_Exit, L.C._)

ALMA. Oh, you've come at last!

d.i.c.k. Did you expect me? (_puts hat on sofa_)

ALMA. To be sure I did! Brought the engagement with you?

d.i.c.k. What engagement?

ALMA. Five pounds a week more salary.

d.i.c.k. Five fiddlesticks!

ALMA. What have you come for, then?

d.i.c.k. Two minutes' conversation.

ALMA. You shall have ten. Sit down.

d.i.c.k. Don't want ten. Two's enough. (_produces a letter_) Horrible hand you write. It took me half-an-hour to make it out.

ALMA. I'm sure it's plain enough.

d.i.c.k. Well, it's not pretty.

ALMA. You don't waste time in compliments.

d.i.c.k. No time to waste. You've given me notice.

ALMA. Yes, a fortnight's notice.

d.i.c.k. Oh, it's quite regular.

ALMA. Well?