ning getting there the
same time; every day the same stale "dinner," as they call it; every
evening the same "Good evening, Miss Clare," "Good evening, Miss
Simpson," "Good evening, Miss Hart," "Good evening, Miss Clare."
And the same walk home, or the same 'bus; and the same men that you
mustn't look at, for fear they'll follow you. [She rises] Oh! and
the feeling-always, always--that there's no sun, or life, or hope, or
anything. It was just like being ill, the way I've wanted to ride
and dance and get out into the country. [Her excitement dies away
into the old clipped composure, and she sits down again] Don't think
too badly of me--it really is pretty ghastly!

MALISE. [Gruffly] H'm! Why a shop?

CLARE. References. I didn't want to tell more lies than I could
help; a married woman on strike can't tell the truth, you know. And
I can't typewrite or do shorthand yet. And chorus--I thought--you
wouldn't like.

MALISE. I? What have I----? [He checks himself ] Have men been
brutes?

CLARE. [Stealing a look at him] One followed me a lot. He caught
hold of my arm one evening. I just took this out [She draws out her
hatpin and holds it like a dagger, her lip drawn back as the lips of
a dog going to bite] and said: "Will you leave me alone, please?"
And he did. It was rather nice. And there was one quite decent
little man in the shop--I was sorry for him--such a humble little
man!

MALISE. Poor devil--it's hard not to wish for the moon.

At the tone of his voice CLARE looks up at him; his face is
turned away.

CLARE. [Softly] How have you been? Working very hard?

MALISE. As hard as God will let me.

CLARE. [Stealing another look] Have you any typewriting I could do?
I could learn, and I've still got a brooch I could sell. Which is
the best kind?

MALISE. I had a catalogue of them somewhere.

He goes into the inner room. The moment he is gone, CLARE
stands up, her hands pressed to her cheeks as if she felt them
flaming. Then, with hands clasped, she stands waiting. He
comes back with the old portfolio.

MALISE. Can you typewrite where you are?

CLARE. I have to find a new room anyway. I'm changing--to be safe.
[She takes a luggage ticket from her glove] I took my things to
Charing Cross--only a bag and one trunk. [Then, with that queer
expression on her face which prefaces her desperations] You don't
want me now, I suppose.

MALISE. W