MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway--I don't accept this. I am sure my
husband--the Church--will never accept----

STRANGWAY. Take it!

MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't
accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're
overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then.

STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind]
Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful!

MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who
want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you.
Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it
would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me----?

STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you.

MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if
you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I
mean. We dare not foster immorality.

STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that!

MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you
can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can
never help her to go on like this in secret sin.

STRANGWAY. Torture her--one way or the other?