it.

CLARE. Did I? How funny!

MRS. FULLARTON. Oh! my dear! Don't look like that, or you'll make
me cry.

CLARE. One doesn't always know the future, does one? [Desperately]
I love him! I love him!

MRS. FULLARTON. [Suddenly] If you love him, what will it be like for
you, knowing you've ruined him?

CLARE. Go away! Go away!

MRS. FULLARTON. Love!--you said!

CLARE. [Quivering at that stab-suddenly] I must--I will keep him.
He's all I've got.

MRS. FULLARTON. Can you--can you keep him?

CLARE. Go!

MRS. FULLARTON. I'm going. But, men are hard to keep, even when
you've not been the ruin of them. You know whether the love this man
gives you is really love. If not--God help you! [She turns at the
door, and says mournfully] Good-bye, my child! If you can----

Then goes. CLARE, almost in a whisper, repeats the words:
"Love! you said!" At the sound of a latchkey she runs as if to
escape into the bedroom, but changes her mind and stands blotted
against the curtain of the door. MALISE enters. For a moment
he does not see her standing there against the curtain that is
much the same colour as her dress. His face is that of a man in
the grip of a rage that he feels to be impotent. Then, seeing
her, he pulls himself together, walks to his armchair, and sits
down there in his hat and coat.

CLARE. Well? "The Watchfire?" You may as well tell me.

MALISE. Nothing to tell you, child.

At that touch of tenderness she goes up to his chair and kneels
down beside it. Mechanically MALISE takes off his hat.

CLARE. Then you are to lose that, too? [MALISE stares at her] I
know about it--never mind how.

MALISE. Sanctimonious dogs!

CLARE. [Very low] There are other things to be got, aren't there?

MALISE. Thick as blackberries. I just go out and cry, "MALISE,
unsuccessful author, too honest journalist, freethinker,
co-respondent, bankrupt," and they tumble!

CLARE. [Quietly] Kenneth, do you care for me? [MALISE stares at
her] Am I anything to you but just prettiness?

MALISE. Now, now! This isn't the time to brood! Rouse up and
fight.

CLARE. Yes.

MALISE. We're not going to let them down us, are we? [She rubs her
cheek against his hand, that still rests on her shoulder] Life on
sufferance, breath at the pleasure of the enemy! And some day in the
fullness of his mercy to be made a present of the right to eat