LADY PEMBURY. It was then that you found out who your father was? STRANGER. That's right. I found these old letters. She'd kept them locked up all those years. Bit of luck for me. LADY PEMBURY (almost to herself). And that was two years ago. And for two years you had your hopes, your ambitions, for two years you were proud and independent. . . . Why did you not come to us then? STRANGER (with a touch of vanity). Well, I was getting on all right, you know--and---- LADY PEMBURY. And then suddenly, after two years, you lost hope. STRANGER. I lost my job. LADY PEMBURY. Poor boy! And couldn't get another. STRANGER (bitterly). It's a beast of a world if you're down. He's in the gutter--kick him down--trample on him. Nobody wants him. That's the way to treat them when they're down. Trample on 'em. LADY PEMBURY. And so you came to your father to help you up again. To help you out of the gutter. STRANGER. That's right. LADY PEMBURY (pleadingly). Ah, but give him a chance! STRANGER. Now, look here, I've told you already that I'm not going to have any of _that_ game. LADY PEMBURY (shaking her head sadly). Foolish boy! You don't understand. Give him a chance to help you out of the gutter. STRANGER. Well, I'm----! Isn't that what I am doing? LADY PEMBURY. No, no. You're asking him to trample you right down into it, deeper and deeper into the mud and slime. I want you to let him help you back to where you were two years ago--when you were proud and hopeful. STRANGER (looking at her in a puzzled way). I can't make out what your game is. It's no good pretending you don't hate the sight of me--it stands to reason you must. LADY PEMBURY (smiling). But then women _are_ unreasonable, aren't they? And I think it is only in fairy-stories that stepmothers are always so unkind. STRANGER (surprised). Stepmother! LADY PEMBURY. Well, that's practically what I am, isn't it? (Whimsically) I've never been a stepmother before. (Persuasively) Couldn't you let me be proud of my stepson? STRANGER. Well, you _are_ a one! . . . Do you mean to say that you and your husband aren't going to have a row about this? LADY PEMBURY. It's rather late to begin a row, isn't it, thirty years after it's happened? . . . Besides, perhaps you aren't going to tell him anything about it. STRANGER. But what else have I come for except to tell him?