THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
Mr. Grey : Well, you see . . . it’s like this. I’m worried. She . . . she isn’t likely to come in and find me here, talking to you?
Jenny (with a glance at the window) : No . . . not just yet.
Mr. Grey : I shouldn’t like her to think me butting in . . . interfering or prying, like. But I had to come. You see . . . I’m worried.
Jenny : What about, Mr. Grey?
Mr. Grey : Well, about Margaret . . . about her. There’s something going on and I don’t know what it is. And she isn’t happy. And that’s the truth of it.
Jenny : I see.
Mr. Grey : Now, I don’t ask no questions. What Margaret likes to tell me she tells me, and what she doesn’t’s no business of mine. And I trust her, see?
Jenny : Of course.
Mr. Grey : But I can’t bear to see her unhappy. I don’t know what she comes up here for every afternoon—and I don’t want to know, see? She told me an old friend of hers had been wounded, and that’s enough for me. I take it she comes up here to see him.
Jenny : Yes. It’s my cousin, Captain Baldry.
Mr. Grey (fiercely) : I wasn’t asking for no names! (Subsiding) I beg your pardon, miss, for
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