(With
a fresh gush of compassion) I'm so SO sorry for you.
SIR HOWARD (rather stiffly). I really do not see how I need your
commiseration, Cicely. The woman was an impossible person, half
mad, half drunk. Do you understand what such a creature is when
she has a grievance, and imagines some innocent person to be the
author of it?
LADY CICELY (with a touch of impatience). Oh, quite. THAT'll be
made clear enough. I can see it all in the papers already: our
half mad, half drunk sister-in-law, making scenes with you in the
street, with the police called in, and prison and all the rest of
it. The family will be furious. (Sir Howard quails. She instantly
follows up her advantage with) Think of papa!
SIR HOWARD. I shall expect Lord Waynflete to look at the matter as
a reasonable man.
LADY CICELY. Do you think he's so greatly changed as that, Howard?
SIR HOWARD (falling back on the fatalism of the depersonalized
public man). My dear Cicely: there is no use discussing the
matter. It cannot be helped, however disagreeable it may be.
LADY CICELY. Of course not. That's what's so dreadful. Do you
think people will understand?
SIR HOWARD. I really cannot say. Whether they do or not, I cannot
help it.
LADY CICELY. If you were anybody but a judge, it wouldn't matter
so much. But a judge mustn't even be misunderstood. (Despairingly)
Oh, it's dreadful, Howard: it's terrible! What would poor Mary say
if she were alive now?
SIR HOWARD (with emotion).
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