HILARY. Led. Like Peter out of prison. I went through the gate, openly. Their eyes were blinded. [_With a complete change of tone_] Pure luck, you know. There were visitors going out--and I nipped along with them, talking. No-one spotted me. I wouldn’t have believed it possible. Heaps of us--of them, I mean--have tried, you know. SYDNEY. But you’d no money. HILARY. [_Whimsically_] I took the first taxi I saw. Promised him double. He’s at the lower gate now, waiting to be paid. SYDNEY. Father, _dear_! Ticking away the tuppences! We’re not millionaires! HILARY. [_Carelessly_] Your mother’ll see to it. [_Sound of a motor horn_] That’s him! I suppose he’s got tired of waiting and come round. SYDNEY. No, no! That’ll be Mother. You mustn’t stop here. You must let me tell her. You must let me tell her first. [_She goes out hurriedly._] HILARY. Your mother, is it? Your mother, eh? Here--child--a minute, give me a minute! give me a minute! MARGARET. [_As she comes in_] No--he couldn’t. But he’s coming round directly after lunch--Hilary! HILARY. [_Like a man who can’t see_] Meg! Is it Meg? Meg, I’ve come home. MARGARET. [_Terrified_] Sydney, don’t go away! SYDNEY. It’s all right, Mother! HILARY. Meg! MARGARET. But they said--they said--incurable. They shouldn’t have said--incurable. HILARY. What does it matter? I’m well. I’m well, Meg! I tell you--it came over me like a lantern flash--like a face turning to you. I was in the garden, you know--lost. I was a lost soul--outcast! No hope. I can never make anyone understand. I was never like the rest of them. I was sane, always--but--the face was turned away. SYDNEY. What face? HILARY. The face of God. MARGARET. Sydney--is he--? SYDNEY.--It’s all right, Mother! That isn’t madness. He’s come to himself. MARGARET. Then--then--what am I to do? HILARY. What’s that? [_He comes nearer._] MARGARET. I--I-- HILARY. [_Staring at her_] You don’t say a word. One would think you weren’t glad to see me. Aren’t you glad to see me? MARGARET. Of course--glad--you poor Hilary! HILARY. If you knew what it is to say to myself--I’m at home! That place--! MARGARET. [_Mechanically_] Oh, but there was every comfort. HILARY. Hell! Hell! MARGARET. [_Insisting_] But they were good to you? HILARY. Good enough. MARGARET. [_In acute distress_] They didn’t--ill-treat--? SYDNEY. Mother, you know you did the very best-- HILARY. If it had been heaven--what difference does it make? I was a dead man. Do you know what the dead do in heaven? They sit on their golden chairs and sicken for home. Why did you never come? MARGARET. They wouldn’t let me. It made you worse. HILARY. Because I wanted you so. MARGARET. But you didn’t know me.