WHY SHE WOULD NOT (Scene II)

Scene II

     AT the gates of a pretentious country house surrounded by a high stone wall and overshadowed by heavy elm trees. The wall is broken by four sham towers with battlemented tops.
     The Newcomer and the Lady arrive. She opens her bag and takes out a key to unlock the wicket.
     THE LADY. Here we are. This is my house.
     THE NEWCOMER [looking at it] Oh. Is it?
     He is not as much impressed as she expected. She fingers the cash pocket in her bag, and is obviously embarrassed.
     THE NEWCOMER. You are safe at home now. I must hurry into the town to get a night's lodging. Goodnight, lady. [He turns to go.]
     THE LADY. O please wait a moment. I hardly know---
     THE NEWCOMER. How much to tip me, eh?
     THE LADY. Well, I must reward you. You have done me a great service. I promised---
     THE NEWCOMER. You did. But rescuing ladies from robbers is not my profession: it is only my amusement as an amateur. But you can do something for me. You said your name was White. Your people are the greatest timber merchants and woodmen in the county. Well, I'm a carpenter of sorts. Could you get me a job in the timber yard at three pounds ten a week? I cant live on less.
     THE LADY. Oh, I'm sure I can. My grandfather is chairman of the Board. My brother is manager. What is your name? Where do you live?
     THE NEWCOMER. My name is Henry Bossborn. I live nowhere, or where I can: I have no address. I'll call on Thursday at your kitchen door: you can leave word with your maid if there is any news for me. Good night.
     THE LADY [very graciously] Au revoir.
     BOSSBORN. Not necessarily. Adieu: remember me.
     He goes decisively. She unlocks the wicket and goes home.