I knew him before he went in. His name was Feltman then. And when they let him out I took him because I felt sure he had everything to gain by sticking to me, and everything to lose by giving me away. ETCHINGHAM. My God! GEORGE WINTER. He can tell you what you’re in for. What the broad arrow’s like to wear, and what the food’s like to eat. And the work--it’s a healthy life, regular hours--you’re strong for your age. I don’t see why you shouldn’t break stones in the quarries with the rest of us. Hour after hour with your back feeling as if it were going to break, and your arms aching, aching, but not so badly as your heart. [BENNETT _breaks down and sobs, difficultly trying to restrain himself_. GEORGE WINTER. And you count the days, three hundred and sixty-five in a year, and you wonder if they’ll ever come to an end. And your mind keeps on working. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were a brainless hulk like the man who’s sweating away beside you; but you think, and you can’t help thinking. And you curse yourself. And you think of the people outside who are free to do as they like, and you think of the spring-time and the flowers, and you think of the pleasant streets of London. And then there’s the regret which wrings your heart day after day, and you wish--you wish a thousand times you were dead. You sleep, you’re too tired not to, even though you’ve got hunger gnawing at your vitals, for you’re hungry, always hungry--and in your sleep you dream that you’re back again in your home, happy and comfortable; and when you wake up and feel your hard prison bed, you cry like a child. BENNETT. Oh, my God! My God! GEORGE WINTER. And then when you come out, it’s not over. You slink along the streets, feeling that it’s written on your forehead for every one to see, and your heart beats when you catch sight of a policeman. And at night it all comes back to you. You see it again, the warders, the convict gang, the prison food, and your back aches with the labour. And you wake shrieking with terror, shrieking, shrieking! [_There is a pause._ ETCHINGHAM _looks straight in front of him with chill, stony eyes_. BENNETT _cowers brokenly, trembling in every limb. There is a knock at the door. Tap, tap, tap. Even_ GEORGE WINTER _starts and a shiver runs through him. The knocking is repeated._ GEORGE WINTER. [_Angry with his own nervousness._] Who the devil’s that? Come in! _The_ BUTLER _enters_. GEORGE WINTER. What is it? I told you we weren’t to be disturbed. THOMPSON. The gentlemen have come, sir. [GEORGE WINTER _reflects for an instant, and gives_ ETCHINGHAM _a rapid glance_. GEORGE WINTER. I’ll ring when you can show them up. THOMPSON. Very good, sir. [_Exit._ GEORGE WINTER. [_Abruptly._] Now go to Kate, tell her what I’ve told you, and say the only way she can save you is by giving in. ETCHINGHAM. [_Hoarsely._] I’ll see you damned first. GEORGE WINTER. [_Astounded._] What!