your portrait; he is an artist.
ALICE. Very likely; they all want to paint me. I daresay that is the man to whom I gave my sandwiches.
MRS. COADE. But I thought you said he had a daughter?
ALICE. Such a pretty girl; I gave her half a crown.
COADE. A daughter? That can't be Dearth.
PURDIE (darkly). Don't be too sure. Was the man you speak of a rather chop-fallen, gone-to-seed sort of person.
ALICE. No, I thought him such a jolly, attractive man.
COADE. Dearth jolly, attractive! Oh no. Did he say anything about his wife?
LADY CAROLINE, Yes, do try to remember if he mentioned her.
ALICE (snapping). No, he didn't.
PURDIE. He was far from jolly in her time.
ALICE (with an archness for which the cake is responsible). Perhaps that was the lady's fault.
(The last of the adventurers draws nigh, carolling a French song as he comes.)
COADE. Dearth's voice. He sounds quite merry!
JOANNA (protecting). Alice, you poor thing.
PURDIE. This is going to be horrible.
(A clear-eyed man of lusty gait comes in.)
DEARTH. I am sorry to bounce in on you in this way, but really I have an excuse. I am a painter of sorts, and . . .
(He sees he has brought some strange discomfort here.)
MRS. COADE. I must say, Mr. Dearth, I am delighted to see you looking so well. Like a new man, isn't he?
(No one dares to answer.)
DEARTH. I am certainly very well, if you care to know. But did I tell you my name?
JOANNA (for some one has to speak). No, but--but we have an instinct in this house.
DEARTH. Well, it doesn't matter. Here is the situation; my daughter and I have just met in the wood a poor woman famishing for want of food. We were as happy as grigs ourselves, and the sight of her distress rather cut us up. Can you give me something for her? Why are you looking so startled? (Seeing the remains of the cake.) May I have this?
(A shrinking movement from one of them draws his attention, and he recognises in her the woman of whom he has been speaking. He sees her in fine clothing and he grows stern.)
I feel I can't be mistaken; it was you I met in the wood? Have you been playing some trick on me? (To the others.) It was for her I wanted the food.
ALICE (her hand guarding the place where his gift lies). Have you come to take hack the money you gave me?
DEARTH. Your dress! You were almost in rags when I saw you outside.
ALICE (frightened as she discovers how she is now attired). I don't . . . understand . . .
COADE (gravely enough). For that matter, Dearth, I daresay you were different in the wood, too.
(DEARTH sees his own clothing.)
DEARTH. What . . . !
ALICE (frightened). Where am I? (To Mrs. Coade.) I seem to know you . . . do I?
MRS. COADE (motherly). Yes, you do; hold my hand, and you will soon remember all about it.
JOANNA. I am afraid, Mr. Dearth, it is harder for you than for the rest of us.
PURDIE (looking away). I wish I could help you, but I can't; I am a rotter.
MABEL. We are awfully sorry. Don't you remember . . . Midsummer Eve?
DEARTH (controlling himself). Midsummer Eve? This room. Yes, this room . . . You was it you? . . . were going out to look for something . . . The tree of knowledge, wasn't it? Somebody wanted me to go, too . . . Who was that? A lady, I think . . . Why did she ask me to go? What was I doing here? I was smoking a cigar . . . I laid it down, there . . . (He finds the cigar.) Who was the lady?
ALICE (feebly). Something about a second chance.
MRS. COADE. Yes, you poor dear, you thought you could make so much of it.
DEARTH. A lady who didn't like me-- (With conviction.) She had good reasons, too--but what were they . . . ?
ALICE. A little old man! He did it. What did he do?
(The hammer is raised.)
DEARTH. I am . . . it is coming back--I am not the man I thought myself.
ALICE. I am not Mrs. Finch-Fallowe. Who am I?
DEARTH (staring at her). You were that lady.
ALICE. It is you--my husband!
(She is overcome.)
MRS. COADE. My dear, you are much better off, so far as I can see, than if you were Mrs.