VE--haven't you?

GEORGE. We used----

CLARE. I wonder!

GEORGE. You know we did.

CLARE. Too long ago--if ever.

GEORGE [Coming closer] I--still----

CLARE. [Making a barrier of her hand] You know that's only cupboard
love.

GEORGE. We've got to face the facts.

CLARE. I thought I was.

GEORGE. The facts are that we're married--for better or worse, and
certain things are expected of us. It's suicide for you, and folly
for me, in my position, to ignore that. You have all you can
reasonably want; and I don't--don't wish for any change. If you
could bring anything against me--if I drank, or knocked about town,
or expected too much of you. I'm not unreasonable in any way, that I
can see.

CLARE. Well, I think we've talked enough.

[She again moves towards the curtained door.]

GEORGE. Look here, Clare; you don't mean you're expecting me to put
up with the position of a man who's neither married nor unmarried?
That's simple purgatory. You ought to know.

CLARE. Yes. I haven't yet, have I?

GEORGE. Don't go like that! Do you suppose we're the only couple
who've found things aren't what they thought, and have to put up with
each other and make the best of it.

CLARE. Not by thousands.

GEORGE. Well, why do you imagine they do it?

CLARE. I don't know.

GEORGE. From a common sense of decency.

CLARE. Very!

GEORGE. By Jove! You can be the most maddening thing in all the
world! [Taking up a pack of cards, he lets them fall with a long
slithering flutter] After behaving as you have this evening, you
might try to make some amends, I should think.

CLARE moves her head from side to side, as if in sight of
something she could not avoid. He puts his hand on her arm.

CLARE. No, no--no!

GEORGE. [Dropping his hand] Can't you make it up?

CLARE. I don't feel very Christian.

She opens the door, passes through, and closes it behind her.
GEORGE steps quickly towards it, stops, and turns back into the
room. He goes to the window and stands looking out; shuts it
with a bang, and again contemplates the door. Moving forward,
he rests his hand on the deserted card table, clutching its
edge, and muttering. Then he crosses to the door into the hall
and switches off the light. He opens the door to go out, then
stands again irresolute in the darkness and heaves a heavy sigh.
Suddenly he mutters: "No!" Crosses res