MRS. BARTHWICK. Do you mean that you had another person's purse,
and that this man took it too?

BARTHWICK. Tcha! Of course he took it too! A man like that Jones
will make the most of it. It'll get into the papers.

MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't understand. What on earth is all the fuss
about? [Bending over JACK, and softly.] Jack now, tell me dear!
Don't be afraid. What is it? Come!

JACK. Oh, don't Mother!

MRS. BARTHWICK. But don't what, dear?

JACK. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got the thing. Of
course I 'd had a bit of a row--I did n't know what I was doing--I
was--I Was--well, you know--I suppose I must have pulled the bag out
of her hand.

MRS. BARTHWICK. Out of her hand? Whose hand? What bag--whose bag?

JACK. Oh! I don't know--her bag--it belonged to--[in a desperate
and rising voice] a woman.

MRS. BARTHWICK. A woman? Oh! Jack! No!

JACK. [Jumping up.] You would have it. I did n't want to tell
you. It's not my fault.