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new life of yours. You made a mess of the old one, and I think you will of the new.

No matter what you say, you can’t get away from me, I ’ll be grateful till I die, But for you I ’d have gone to that damned prison!

But for Jane.

How Jane?

How Jane? Jane went your bond the day your mother died. Jane took you in and taught you how to work, made you work, taught you through the one decent spot in you something of a thing you ’d never know, self-respect. Worked over you, petted you, coaxed you—held you up—Then you hurt her—but she kept on—She went herself to Kimbal, after he had refused me, and got his help to keep you out of prison—then, against my will, against the best that I could do to stop her, she turns over all this to you—and goes out with nothing—and you ask “How Jane?”

Why? Why has she done this, all this, for me?

[''The Judge looks at Ben with contempt and turns and exits. Ben is left in deep thought. Jane comes downstairs dressed for a journey with a hand bag, etc. She enters''.

Good-by, Ben. (She crosses to him, her hand out) Good-by. Won’t you say good-by?