_She goes out, leaving the door open. There is a slight pause._ MARGARET _comes in hurriedly, shutting the door behind her_. GRAY. [_Smiling_] Well, what’s the mystery? MARGARET. Gray, he’s come back! GRAY. Who? MARGARET. Hilary! GRAY. [_Lightly_] Hilary? What Hilary? _Hilary!_ MARGARET. Yes. GRAY. Good God! MARGARET. He got away. He came straight here. I found him with Sydney. GRAY. Don’t be frightened. I’m here. Is he dangerous? MARGARET. No, no, poor fellow! GRAY. You can’t be sure. Anyway, I’d better take charge of him while you phone the asylum. No, that won’t do, there are no trains. We must ring up the authorities. MARGARET. Oh, no, Gray! GRAY. It’s not pleasant, but it’s the only thing to do. MARGARET. You don’t understand. GRAY. There’s only one way to deal with an escaped lunatic. MARGARET. But he’s not. He’s well. GRAY. What’s that? MARGARET. He’s well. He knows me. He-- GRAY. I don’t believe it. MARGARET. Do you think I want to believe it? Oh, what a ghastly thing to say! GRAY. This has nothing to do with you. He has nothing to do with you. Leave me to deal with him. [_He goes towards the door._] MARGARET. Where are you going? GRAY. ’Phoning for Dr. Alliot to begin with. MARGARET. Sydney’s done that already. GRAY. Sydney’s head’s on her shoulders. MARGARET. He’ll be here as soon as he can. He could always manage Hilary. GRAY. You’d better go up to your room. MARGARET. No. GRAY. Don’t take it too hard. It’ll be over in an hour. We’ll get him away quietly, poor devil. MARGARET. But it’s no good, Gray, he’s well. We’ve been on to the asylum already. They say we should have heard in a day or two even if he hadn’t got away. GRAY. Really well? MARGARET. The old Hilary--voice and ways and--oh, my God! what am I to do? GRAY. Do? You? MARGARET. Don’t you see, he knows nothing? His hair’s grey and he talks as he talked at twenty. It’s horrible. GRAY. What do you mean, he knows nothing? MARGARET. About the divorce. About you and me. He thinks it’s all--as he left it. GRAY. [_Incredulously_] You’ve said nothing? MARGARET. He’s like a lost child come home. Do you think I want to send him crazy again? He-- GRAY. [_With a certain anger_] You’ve said nothing? MARGARET. Not yet. GRAY. You’ll come away with me at once. MARGARET. I can’t. I’ve got to think of Hilary. GRAY. You’ve got to think of me. MARGARET. I _am_ you. But I’ve done him so much injury-- GRAY. _You’ve_ done Fairfield injury? You little saint! MARGARET. Saint? I’m a wicked woman. I’m wishing he hadn’t got well. I’m wishing the doctors will say it’s not true. In my wicked heart I’m calling down desolation on my own husband. GRAY. You have no husband. You’re marrying me in a week. You’re mine. MARGARET. I’m afraid-- GRAY. Whose are you? Answer me. MARGARET. Yours. GRAY. You know it? MARGARET. I know it. GRAY. Then never be afraid again.