KNOX. [throwing himself in front of it] Here! where are you going?
MRS KNOX. [rising] You mustnt turn her out, Jo! I'll go with her if she goes.
KNOX. Who wants to turn her out? But is she going to ruin us? To let everybody know of her disgrace and shame? To tear me down from the position Ive made for myself and you by forty years hard struggling?
MARGARET. Yes: I'm going to tear it all down. It stands between us and everything. I'll tell everybody.
KNOX. Magsy, my child: dont bring down your father's hairs with sorrow to the grave. Theres only one thing I care about in the world: to keep this dark. I'm your father. I ask you here on my knees—in the dust, so to speak—not to let it out.
MARGARET. I'll tell everybody.
Knox collapses in despair. Mrs Knox tries to pray and cannot. Margaret stands inflexible.
ACT III
Again in the Gilbeys' dining-room. Afternoon. The table is not laid: it is draped in its ordinary cloth, with pen and ink, an exercise-book, and school-books on it. Bobby Gilbey is in the arm-chair, crouching over the fire, reading an illustrated paper. He is a pretty youth, of very suburban gentility, strong and manly enough by nature, but untrained and unsatisfactory, his parents having imagined that domestic restriction is what they call "bringing up." He has learnt nothing from it except a habit of evading it by deceit.