Capt. H. (_Triumphant_). Now we shall be all right, my dear, till our
Harry comes home to-morrow. (_Affected gurgling laugh_.)

Bessie (_Distracted_). Be quiet. Shut yourself in. You will make me mad.
(_Losing control of herself, repeats with rising infection_) You make me
mad.

(_With despair_) There is no to-morrow! (_Sinks to ground near middle
railings. Low sobs_)

(_Stage darkens perceptibly_.)

Capt. H. (_Above, in a voice suddenly dismayed and shrill_).

What! What do you say, my dear? No to-morrow? (_Broken, very feebly_.)
No--to-morrow?

(_Window runs down_)

Carvil (_Heard within, muffled bellowing_). Bessie--Bessie--Bessie--
Bessie------ (_At the first call Bessie springs up and begins to stumble
blindly towards the door. A faint fash of lightnings followed by a very
low rumble of thunder_) You!--Bessie!


CURTAIN


HERE ENDS ONE DAY MORE A PLAY