blind. He don't like strangers, and he can't bear to think of me out of
his call. Nobody comes near us much.

Harry (_Absent-minded_). Blind--ah! of course.

Bessie. For years and years . . .

Harry (_Commiserating_). For years and years. In one of them hutches.
You are a good daughter. (_Brightening up_.) A fine girl altogether. You
seem the sort that makes a good chum to a man in a fix. And there's not
a man in this whole town who found you out? I can hardly credit it, Miss
Bessie. (_B. shakes her head_.) Man I said! (_Contemptuous_.) A lot of
tame rabbits in hutches I call them.... (_Breaks off_.) I say, when's
the last train up to London? Can you tell me?

Bessie (_Gazes at him steadily_). What for? You've no money.

Harry. That's just it. (_Leans back against post again_.) Hard luck.
(_Insinuating_.) But there was never a time in all my travels that a
woman of the right sort did not turn up to help me out of a fix. I don't
know why. It's perhaps because they know without telling that I love
them all. (_Playful_.) I've almost fallen in love with you, Miss Bessie.

Bessie (_Unsteady laugh_). Why! How you talk! You haven't even seen my
face properly. (_One step towards H., as if compelled._)

Harry (_Bending forward gallantly_). A little pale. It suits some.
(_Puts out his hand, catches hold of B.'s arm. Draws her to him_.) Let's
see.... Yes, it suits you. (_It's a moment before B. puts up her hands,
palms out, and turns away her head_.)