g towards them] I say, Mrs. Dedmond, you wouldn't
sing me that little song you sang the other night, [He hums] "If I
might be the falling bee and kiss thee all the day"? Remember?

MRS. FULLARTON. "The falling dew," Edward. We simply must go,
Clare. Good-night. [She kisses her.]

FULLARTON. [Taking half-cover between his wife and CLARE] It suits
you down to the ground-that dress.

CLARE. Good-night.

HUNTINGDON sees them out. Left alone CLARE clenches her hands,
moves swiftly across to the window, and stands looking out.

HUNTINGDON. [Returning] Look here, Clare!

CLARE. Well, Reggie?

HUNTINGDON. This is working up for a mess, old girl. You can't do
this kind of thing with impunity. No man'll put up with it. If
you've got anything against George, better tell me. [CLARE shakes
her head] You ought to know I should stick by you. What is it?
Come?

CLARE. Get married, and find out after a year that she's the wrong
person; so wrong that you can't exchange a single real thought; that
your blood runs cold when she kisses you--then you'll know.

HUNTINGDON. My dear old girl, I don't want to be a brute; but it's a
bit difficult to believe in that, except in novels.

CLARE. Yes, incredible, when you haven't tried.

HUNTINGDON. I mean, you--you chose him yourself. No one forced you
to marry him.

CLARE. It does seem monstrous, doesn't it?

HUNTINGDON. My dear child, do give us a reason.

CLARE. Look! [She points out at the night and the darkening towers]
If George saw that for the first time he'd just say, "Ah,
Westminster! Clock Tower! Can you see the time by it?" As if one
cared where or what it was--beautiful like that! Apply that to every
--every--everything.

HUNTINGDON. [Staring] George may be a bit prosaic. But, my dear old
girl, if that's all----

CLARE. It's not all--it's nothing. I can't explain, Reggie--it's
not reason, at all; it's--it's like being underground in a damp cell;
it's like knowing you'll never get out. Nothing coming--never
anything coming again-never anything.

HUNTINGDON. [Moved and puzzled] My dear old thing; you mustn't get
into fantods like this. If it's like that, don't think about it.

CLARE. When every day and every night!--Oh! I know it's my fault
for having married him, but that doesn't help.

HUNTINGDON. Look here! It's not as if George wasn't quite a decent
chap. And it's no use blinking things; you are absolute