and that kind of thing--haven't been brought up to it.

CLARE. British home-made summer goods, light and attractive--don't
wear long. [At the sound of voices in the hall] They seem 'to be
going, Reggie.

[HUNTINGDON looks at her, vexed, unhappy.]

HUNTINGDON. Don't head for trouble, old girl. Take a pull. Bless
you! Good-night.

CLARE kisses him, and when he has gone turns away from the door,
holding herself in, refusing to give rein to some outburst of
emotion. Suddenly she sits down at the untouched Bridge table,
leaning her bare elbows on it and her chin on her hands, quite
calm. GEORGE is coming in. PAYNTER follows him.

CLARE. Nothing more wanted, thank you, Paynter. You can go home,
and the maids can go to bed.

PAYNTER. We are much obliged, ma'am.

CLARE. I ran over a dog, and had to get it seen to.

PAYNTER. Naturally, ma'am!

CLARE. Good-night.

PAYNTER. I couldn't get you a little anything, ma'am?

CLARE. No, thank you.

PAYNTER. No, ma'am. Good-night, ma'am.

[He withdraws.]

GEORGE. You needn't have gone out of your way to tell a lie that
wouldn't deceive a guinea-pig. [Going up to her] Pleased with
yourself to-night? [CLARE shakes her head] Before that fellow
MALISE; as if our own people weren't enough!

CLARE. Is it worth while to rag me? I know I've behaved badly, but
I couldn't help it, really!

GEORGE. Couldn't help behaving like a shop-girl? My God! You were
brought up as well as I was.

CLARE. Alas!

GEORGE. To let everybody see that we don't get on--there's only one
word for it--Disgusting!

CLARE. I know.

GEORGE. Then why do you do it? I've always kept my end up. Why in
heaven's name do you behave in this crazy way?

CLARE. I'm sorry.

GEORGE. [With intense feeling] You like making a fool of me!

CLARE. No--Really! Only--I must break out sometimes.

GEORGE. There are things one does not do.

CLARE. I came in because I was sorry.

GEORGE. And at once began to do it again! It seems to me you
delight in rows.

CLARE. You'd miss your--reconciliations.

GEORGE. For God's sake, Clare, drop cynicism!

CLARE. And truth?

GEORGE. You are my wife, I suppose.

CLARE. And they twain shall be one--spirit.

GEORGE. Don't talk wild nonsense!

[There is silence.]

CLARE. [Softly] I don't give satisfaction. Please give me notice!

GEORGE. Pish!

CLARE. Five years, and f