[_Exit_ LADY JOHN _into the lobby to look at the visitors' book._ JEAN. Why haven't I seen her before? MRS. H. Oh, she's lived abroad. (_Debating with herself._) You don't know about her, I suppose? JEAN. I don't know how Aunt Ellen came to know her. MRS. H. That was my doing. But I didn't bargain for her being introduced to you. JEAN. She seems to go everywhere. And why shouldn't she? MRS. H. (_quickly_). You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square. JEAN. I have. MRS. H. Then you'll have to get out of it. JEAN (_with a stubborn look_). I must have a reason. And a very good reason. MRS. H. Well, it's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide ... so I suppose you'll have to know. (_Lowering her voice._) It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse. We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was--I thought she was dying. JEAN. _Dying!_ What was the---- MRS. H. I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, a shady-looking doctor--nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out. JEAN. _Oh!_ but---- MRS. H. Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends ... that is, "sort of." In spite of all I did for her---- JEAN. What did you do? MRS. H. I--I've told you, and I lent her money. No small sum either. JEAN. Has she never paid it back? MRS. H. Oh, yes, after a time. But I _always_ kept her secret--as much as I knew of it. JEAN. But you've been telling me! MRS. H. That was my duty--and I _never_ had her full confidence. JEAN. Wasn't it natural she---- MRS. H. Well, all things considered, she might have wanted to tell me who was responsible. JEAN. Oh! Aunt Lydia! MRS. H. All she ever said was that she was ashamed--(_losing her temper and her fine feeling for the innocence of her auditor_)--ashamed that she "hadn't had the courage to resist"--not the original temptation but the pressure brought to bear on her "not to go through with it," as she said. JEAN (_wrinkling her brows_). You are being so delicate--I'm not sure I understand. MRS. H. (_irritably_). The only thing you need understand is that she's not a desirable companion for a young girl. (_Pause._) JEAN. When did you see her after--after---- MRS. H. (_with a slight grimace_). I met her last winter at the Bishop's. (_Hurriedly._) She's a connection of his wife's. They'd got her to help with some of their work. Then she took hold of ours. Your aunt and uncle are quite foolish about her, and I'm debarred from taking any steps, at least till the Shelter is out of hand.