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 covert but
struggle on in the open. Society! The respectable! The pious!
Even those who love you! Will they let you be? Hue and cry! The
hunt was joined the moment you broke away! It will never let up!
Covert to covert--till they've run you down, and you're back in the
cart, and God pity you!

CLARE. Well, I'll die running!

MALISE. No, no! Let me shelter you! Let me!

CLARE. [Shaking her head and smiling] I'm going to seek my fortune.
Wish me luck!

MALISE. I can't let you go.

CLARE. You must.

He looks into her face; then, realizing that she means it,
suddenly bends down to her fingers, and puts his lips to them.

MALISE. Good luck, then! Good luck!

He releases her hand. Just touching his bent head with her
other hand, CLARE turns and goes. MALISE remains with bowed
head, listening to the sound of her receding footsteps. They
die away. He raises himself, and strikes out into the air with
his clenched fist.

CUR