Alas!

GEORGE. To let everybody see that we don't get on--there's only one
word for it--Disgusting!

CLARE. I know.

GEORGE. Then why do you do it? I've always kept my end up. Why in
heaven's name do you behave in this crazy way?

CLARE. I'm sorry.

GEORGE. [With intense feeling] You like making a fool of me!

CLARE. No--Really! Only--I must break out sometimes.

GEORGE. There are things one does not do.

CLARE. I came in because I was sorry.

GEORGE. And at once began to do it again! It seems to me you
delight in rows.

CLARE. You'd miss your--reconciliations.

GEORGE. For God's sake, Clare, drop cynicism!

CLARE. And truth?

GEORGE. You are my wife, I suppose.

CLARE. And they twain shall be one--spirit.

GEORGE. Don't talk wild nonsense!

[There is silence.]

CLARE. [Softly] I don't give satisfaction. Please give me notice!

GEORGE. Pish!

CLARE. Five years, and four of them like this! I'm sure we've
served our time. Don't you really think we might get on better
together--if I went away?

GEORGE. I've told you I won't stand a separation for no real reason,
and have your name bandied about all over London. I have some
primitive sense of honour.

CLARE. You mean your name, don't you?

GEORGE. Look here. Did that fellow Malise put all this into your
head?

CLARE. No; my own evil nature.

GEORGE. I wish the deuce we'd never met him. Comes of picking up
people you know nothing of. I distrust him--and his looks--and his
infernal satiric way. He can't even 'dress decently. He's not--good
form.

CLARE. [With a touch of rapture] Ah-h!

GEORGE. Why do you let him come? What d'you find interesting in
him?

CLARE. A mind.

GEORGE. Deuced funny one! To have a mind--as you call it--it's not
necessary to talk about Art and Literature.

CLARE. We don't.

GEORGE. Then what do you talk about--your minds? [CLARE looks at
him] Will you answer a straight question? Is he falling in love
with you?

CLARE. You had better ask him.

GEORGE. I tell you plainly, as a man of the world, I don't believe
in the guide, philosopher and friend business.

CLARE. Thank you.

A silence. CLARE suddenly clasps her hands behind her head.

CLARE. Let me go! You'd be much happier with any other woman.

GEORGE. Clare!

CLARE. I believe--I'm sure I could earn my living. Quite serious.

GEORGE. Are you mad?

CLARE. It has been done.