{Dormer.} _(putting his hand on her shoulder)_ Years ago, Kate Verity, I closed one book for ever-- it was called "Woman." As I see the tide ebb and flow, without passion, so I watch a woman in her rise and in her fall with a still heart--they are both beyond me. Mark me, I care no more for you, as a woman, than for the beggars in our High Street; but, for the sake of the charities which stand to the account of one Squire Kate, I throw into the current a small pebble. {Kate.} _(in an undertone)_ What is that? _(keeps her eyes on Eric)_ {Dormer.} _(pointing in the direction of Eric)_ Repair those old gates, and keep that young gentleman on the other side of them. {Kate.} Suppose--I--like the young gentleman? {Dormer.} If he marries in his mother's lifetime he is a pauper. {Kate.} I know that. {Dormer.} What business has he here? {Kate.} It kills time. {Dormer.} So does the Racquet Court at Pagley Barracks. {Kate.} A friend likes a friend better than racquets. {Dormer.} And a woman likes a lover better than a friend. There, I have thrown my pebble--the tide washes it away. _(Christiana enters from L., carrying mug and a glass of milk; she gives mug to Dormer and places glass on table, waits till Dormer has finished, and then takes mug off with her.)_ {Chris.} Will you taste the milk, gentlemen? _(Dor. stands L., of table--Chris, goes out as Gunnion enters through archway. Gun. is a very old man, a dirty specimen of the agriculturist, with straggling grey hair and an unshaven chin. He wears a battered hat, worsted stockings, and huge boots. He speaks a broad country dialect in a wavering treble key.)_ {Gun.} _(coming down R., c.)_ Mornin', Squire! {Kate.} _(sitting R., of table)_ Good afternoon, Mr. Gunnion. {Gun.} _(seeing Dormer)_ Lord bless my eyesight, there's Parson Dormer, a-drinkin' a mug o' milk, as nat'ral as may be--the very man I wanted for to see. _(seeing Eric)_ Ay, and there's the young lieutenant --well, he be fond of our bit of a place. {Eric.} _(raising his head)_ Who's that? _(seeing Gun)_ Oh, are you quite well? _(relapsing)_ {Gun.} I'm an old man, I am. I ain't got a tooth in my yead. {Eric.} _(dreamily)_ Don't name it. {Kate.} _(impatiently)_ Have you heard the news, Mr. Gunnion? {Gun.} I hear as how Gilbert Hythe leaves the Priors, and that I'm to do his dooties. {Kate.} How do you like the prospect? {Gun.} I'm an old man, I am. I ain't got a tooth in my yead. But says Gilbert Hythe to me, "Mr. Gunnion, if you do double dooty, you'll get hadykit remuneration." {Kate.} Of course you will, Mr. Gunnion. {Gun.} To which I said, "If I had the chance, I'd die for the Squire."