TIMBRELL. Yes. Well, Sheila, how are you? Yes. I wanted to have a word with you, Mary. I've heard from Leonard. I've had quite a long letter from him. And a very proper letter in the circumstances. Of course he did very wrong. He acknowledges that. Undoubtedly he ought to have been there. He does make certain explanations and apologies. He expresses himself to me in a suitable manner. Now, Mary, I have been talking to Mrs. Timbrell and we wish you to understand that we are pleased with you. We think that as far as you can--according to your lights--you have made him a good wife. You've had rather a hard time. Well, I thought it right that there should be what I may call an ordeal--a period of ordeal. I hope we may consider that over and that things may be made a little easier for you. I think after the letter I have received from Leonard that I may say--I think I may say-- MARY. He's very good at writing letters. TIMBRELL. Yes, yes. MARY. When little Leonard died he wrote me a beautiful letter. MRS. TIMBRELL. A beautiful letter! MARY. It was beautifully expressed. SHEILA. He's a literary man. TIMBRELL. Well, well. That's all over. MRS. TIMBRELL. Here's Leonard. [_LEONARD enters and looks around him. Then he walks up to MARY and stands before her._] LEONARD. I've come to abase myself, Mary. MARY. You've been a long time in coming. LEONARD. You don't want a lot of apologies. You know what I am. MARY. No. I don't want any apologies. TIMBRELL. Now I think you are wrong there, Mary. He ought to make very ample apologies to you. Of course he has explained to me the exceptional circumstances of the delay but still-- MRS. TIMBRELL. The circumstances of the delay! You begin to excuse him now! LEONARD. Oh! I know. I've been a brute and there's an end of it. MARY. Yes, there's an end of it. TIMBRELL. Of course, Mary, we must all recognise that Leonard is quite an eccentric person. I am reluctant to suggest the possibility of--of two--or more--moral standards but allowance must be made for exceptional temperament. LEONARD. Very liberal, sir. Very liberal and enlightened. [_Turning to MARY, again._] There are some things I hate. All that undertaking business. Black clothes and dark rooms and nodding plumes. Remember that. They're horrible to me. MARY. There are things that I hate, too. LEONARD. If I could have come in time to see the little lad it would have been different. But I like to think of him as alive and happy. I've all sorts of charming memories of him--of him with you, Mary. MARY. Yes. You said so in your letter. LEONARD. I've thought about you a great deal. MARY. I find it hard to believe that. LEONARD. I'm a curious kind of brute. I'm rotten with egoism. It startles me to come back to you and find you so steady and calm. I'd nearly forgotten what you are like.--I wish you'd denounce me or curse me or something. MARY. It's no use doing that now.