(_Cherry goes out slamming the door behind him. Ben Dixon goes to his bag and takes out a prospectus and crossing and standing facing windows begins to read it to himself. While he is doing this Mrs. Ben Dixon and Mrs. Wheedles enter quietly._) MR. BEN DIXON. (_With prospectus in his hand rehearsing to himself in soft voice what he intends to say to his supposed client._) You will be assisting, my dear madam, in saving many poor souls from destruction; you will also get 15 per cent, for your money. For myself---- (_He turns and sees the two women. The paper drops from his hand and he stands looking from one to the other like a trapped rat. For an instant he thinks of escape. He makes a step towards the door at back, but Mrs. Ben Dixon makes a movement to cut him off, then towards door Right, before which Mrs Wheedles stands. Then he makes a movement as if thinking of the window. Then seeing the hopelessness of his case and understanding the situation, he makes up his mind. With an expression of wonder and joy, he advances with outstretched arms towards Mrs. Wheedles._) MR. BEN DIXON. What, Gerty! And you're _not_ dead! Oh, why did they tell me that you were! Why---- MRS. BEN DIXON. (_Intercepts him_.) Here, that won't do. That's a bit too thin, Ben. You described yourself when you married me as a bachelor. MR. BEN DIXON. I know I did, my dear, but I can explain--I can explain everything. MRS. BEN DIXON. You will have the opportunity of doing so--before the magistrate (_regarding him with concentrated disgust_), you sanctimonious old scoundrel. MRS. WHEEDLES. A good wife as I was to you, Henery, how could you do it? MR. BEN DIXON. My dear Gertrude, I can explain. MRS. BEN DIXON. Explain! You'll explain yourself into heaven if they're not sharp. Can you explain why you humbugged and lied an unfortunate fool of a woman into marrying you? MRS. WHEEDLES. And broke your poor wife's heart. MRS. BEN DIXON. And tried to swindle her out of every penny she possessed. MRS. WHEEDLES. And deserted a poor harmless babe as was the very image of him. MRS. BEN DIXON. I'm sorry for the child; but we'll make him pay for it, Mrs. Wheedles. MR. BEN DIXON. If you will only allow me to explain. MRS. BEN DIXON. Explain? What is there to explain? Do you deny that you are married to Mrs. Wheedles, there? MR. BEN DIXON. (_Virtuously_). No, Bella, I do not! No consideration of consequence to myself shall induce me to deny it. I am proud--as anyone might be--to be the husband of this noble lady! (_Crosses over to Mrs. Wheedles' side._) MRS. BEN DIXON. Oh, well you've been pretty modest about it of late. And do you deny that eighteen months ago you married me? MR. BEN DIXON. (_More in sorrow than in anger._) No, Bella, much as I may regret it--I do not, I _will_ not deny the truth. MRS. WHEEDLES. Why did you do it, Henery? MR. BEN DIXON. It was wrong of me. I own it. We are none of us perfect. The woman tempted me, and I fell.