MALISE. You poor----

He clasps and kisses her, then, drawing back, looks in her face.
She has not moved, her eyes are still closed; but she is
shivering; her lips are tightly pressed together; her hands
twitching.

MALISE. [Very quietly] No, no! This is not the house of a
"gentleman."

CLARE. [Letting her head fall, and almost in a whisper] I'm sorry.

MALISE. I understand.

CLARE. I don't feel. And without--I can't, can't.

MALISE. [Bitterly] Quite right. You've had enough of that.

There is a long silence. Without looking at him she takes up
her hat, and puts it on.

MALISE. Not going?

[CLARE nods]

MALISE. You don't trust me?

CLARE. I do! But I can't take when I'm not giving.

MALISE. I beg--I beg you! What does it matter? Use me! Get free
somehow.

CLARE. Mr. Malise, I know what I ought to be to you, if I let you in
for all this. I know what you want--or will want. Of course--why
not?

MALISE. I give you my solemn word----

CLARE. No! if I can't be that to you--it's not real. And I can't.
It isn't to be manufactured, is it?

MALISE. It is not.

CLARE. To make use of you in such a way! No.

[She moves towards the door]

MALISE. Where are you going?

CLARE does not answer. She is breathing rapidly. There is a
change in her, a sort of excitement beneath her calmness.

MALISE. Not back to him? [CLARE shakes her head] Thank God! But
where? To your people again?

CLARE. No.

MALISE. Nothing--desperate?

CLARE. Oh! no.

MALISE. Then what--tell me--come!

CLARE. I don't know. Women manage somehow.

MALISE. But you--poor dainty thing!

CLARE. It's all right! Don't be unhappy! Please!

MALISE. [Seizing her arm] D'you imagine they'll let you off, out
there--you with your face? Come, trust me trust me! You must!

CLARE. [Holding out her hand] Good-bye!

MALISE. [Not taking that hand] This great damned world, and--you!
Listen! [The sound of the traffic far down below is audible in the
stillness] Into that! alone--helpless--without money. The men who
work with you; the men you make friends of--d'you think they'll let
you be? The men in the streets, staring at you, stopping you--pudgy,
bull-necked brutes; devils with hard eyes; senile swine; and the
"chivalrous" men, like me, who don't mean you harm, but can't help
seeing you're made for love! Or suppose you don't take cov