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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"One Day More A Play In One Act"


Bessie (_Earnestly_). Why? There's no need. Let us get away up the road
a little.
Harry (_Through his teeth_). And no money for the fare. (_Looks up_.)
Sky's come overcast. Black, too. It'll be a wild, windy night... to walk
the high road on. But I and wild nights are old friends wherever the
free wind blows.
Bessie (_Entreating_). No need. No need. (_Looks apprehensively at
Hagberd's cottage. Takes a couple of steps up as if to draw Harry
further off. Harry follows. Both stop_.)
Harry (_After waiting_). What about this tomorrow whim?
Bessie. Leave that to me. Of course all his fancies are not mad. They
aren't. (_Pause_.) Most people in this town would think what he had
set his mind on quite sensible. If he ever talks to you of it, don't
contradict him. It would--it would be dangerous.
Harry (_Surprised_). What would he do?
Bessie. He would--I don't know--something rash.
Harry (_Startled_). To himself?
Bessie. No. It'd be against you--I fear.
Harry (_Sullen_). Let him.
Bessie. Never. Don't quarrel. But perhaps he won't even try to talk to
you of it. (_Thinking aloud_.) Who knows what I can do with him in a
week! I can, I can, I can--I must.
Harry. Come--what's this sensible notion of his that I mustn't quarrel
about?
Bessie (_Turns to Harry, calm, forcible_). If I make him once see that
you've come back, he will be as sane as you or I.


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