d.

ARNAUD. [Again filling the glasses] Monsieur finds----

YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] It's all right.

He drains his glass, then sits bolt upright. Chivalry and the
camaraderie of class have begun to stir in him.

YOUNG MAN. Of course I can see that you're not--I mean, that you're
a--a lady. [CLARE smiles] And I say, you know--if you have to--
because you're in a hole--I should feel a cad. Let me lend you----?

CLARE. [Holding up her glass] 'Le vin est tire, il faut le boire'!

She drinks. The French words, which he does not too well
understand, completing his conviction that she is a lady, he
remains quite silent, frowning. As CLARE held up her glass, two
gentlemen have entered. The first is blond, of good height and
a comely insolence. His crisp, fair hair, and fair brushed-up
moustache are just going grey; an eyeglass is fixed in one of
two eyes that lord it over every woman they see; his face is
broad, and coloured with air and wine. His companion is a tall,
thin, dark bird of the night, with sly, roving eyes, and hollow
cheeks. They stand looking round, then pass into the further
room; but in passing, they have stared unreservedly at CLARE.

YOUNG MAN. [Seeing her wince] Look here! I'm afraid you must feel
me rather a brute, you know.

CLARE. No, I don't; really.

YOUNG MAN. Are you absolute stoney? [CLARE nods] But [Looking at
her frock and cloak] you're so awfully well----

CLARE. I had the sense to keep them.

YOUNG MAN. [More and more disturbed] I say, you know--I wish you'd
let me lend you something. I had quite a good day down there.

CLARE. [Again tracing her pattern on the cloth--then looking up at
him full] I can't take, for nothing.

YOUNG MAN. By Jove! I don't know-really, I don't--this makes me
feel pretty rotten. I mean, it's your being a lady.

CLARE. [Smiling] That's not your fault, is it? You see, I've been
beaten all along the line. And I really don't care what happens to
me. [She has that peculiar fey look on her face now] I really
don't; except that I don't take charity. It's lucky for me it's you,
and not some----

The supper-party is getting still more boisterous, and there comes a
long view holloa, and a blast of the horn.

YOUNG MAN. But I say, what about your people? You must have people
of some sort.

He is fast becoming fascinated, for her cheeks have begun to