TWISDEN. In your position, Mrs. Dedmond--a beautiful young woman without money. I'm quite blunt. This is a hard world. Should be awfully sorry if anything goes wrong.
CLARE. And if I go back?
TWISDEN. Of two evils, if it be so--choose the least!
CLARE. I am twenty-six; he is thirty-two. We can't reasonably expect to die for fifty years.
LADY DESMOND. That's morbid, Clare.
TWISDEN. What's open to you if you don't go back? Come, what's your position? Neither fish, flesh, nor fowl; fair game for everybody.
Believe me, Mrs. Dedmond, for a pretty woman to strike, as it appears you're doing, simply because the spirit of her marriage has taken flight, is madness. You must know that no one pays attention to anything but facts. If now--excuse me--you--you had a lover, [His eyes travel round the room and again rest on her] you would, at all events, have some ground under your feet, some sort of protection, but [He pauses] as you have not--you've none.
CLARE. Except what I make myself.
SIR CHARLES. Good God!
TWISDEN. Yes! Mrs. Dedmond! There's the bedrock difficulty. As you haven't money, you should never have been pretty. You're up against the world, and you'll get no mercy from it. We lawyers see too much of that. I'm putting it brutally, as a man of the world.
CLARE. Thank you. Do you think you quite grasp the alternative?
TWISDEN. [Taken aback] But, my dear young lady, there are two sides to every contract. After all, your husband's fulfilled his.
CLARE. So have I up till now. I shan't ask anything from him--nothing--do you understand?
LADY DEDMOND. But, my dear, you must live.
TWISDEN. Have you ever done any sort of work?
CLARE. Not yet.
TWISDEN. Any conception of the competition nowadays?
CLARE. I can try.
[TWISDEN, looking at her, shrugs his shoulders]
CLARE. [Her composure a little broken by that look] It's real to me--this--you see!
SIR CHARLES. But, my dear girl, what the devil's to become of George?
CLARE. He can do what he likes--it's nothing to me.
TWISDEN. Mrs. Dedmond, I say without hesitation you've no notion of what you're faced with, brought up to a sheltered life as you've been. Do realize that you stand at the parting of the ways, and one leads into the wilderness.
CLARE. Which?
TWISDEN. [Glancing at the door through which MALISE has gone] Of course, if you want to play at wild asses there are plenty who will help you.
SIR CHARLES. By Gad! Yes!
CLARE. I only want to breathe.
TWISDEN. Mrs. Dedmond, go back! You can now. It will be too late soon. There are lots of wolves about. [Again he looks at the door]
CLARE. But not where you think. You say I need advice. I came here for it.
TWISDEN. [With a curiously expressive shrug] In that case I don't know that I can usefully stay.
[He goes to the outer door.
CLARE. Please don't have me followed when I leave here. Please!
LADY DEDMOND. George is outside, Clare.
CLARE. I don't wish to see him. By what right have you come here?
[She goes to the door through which MALISE has passed, opens it, and says] Please come in, Mr. Malise.
MALISE enters.
TWISDEN. I am sorry. [Glancing at MALISE, he inclines his head] I am sorry. Good morning. [He goes]
LADY DEDMOND. Mr. Malise, I'm sure, will see----
CLARE. Mr. Malise will stay here, please, in his own room.
[MALISE bows]
SIR CHARLES. My dear girl, 'pon my soul, you know, I can't grasp your line of thought at all!
CLARE. No?
LADY DEDMOND. George is most willing to take up things just as they were before you left.
CLARE. Ah!
LADY DEDMOND. Quite frankly--what is it you want?
CLARE. To be left alone. Quite frankly, he made a mistake to have me spied on.
LADY DEDMOND. But, my good girl, if you'd let us know where you were, like a reasonable being. You can't possibly be left to yourself without money or position of any kind. Heaven knows what you'd be driven to!
MALISE. [Softly] Delicious!
SIR CHARLES. You will be good enough to repeat that out loud, sir.
LADY DEDMOND. Charles! Clare, you must know this is all a fit of spleen; your duty and your interest--marriage is sacred, Clare.
CLARE. Marriage! My marriage has become the--the reconciliation--of two animals--one of them unwilling. That's all the sanctity there is about it.
SIR CHARLES. What!
[She looks at MALISE]
LADY DEDMOND. You ought to be horribly ashamed. CLARE. Of the fact-I am.
LADY DEDMOND. [Darting a glance at MALISE] If we are to talk this out, it must be in private.
MALISE. [To CLARE] Do you wish me to go?
CLARE. No.
LADY DEDMOND. [At MALISE] I should have thought ordinary decent feeling--Good heavens, girl! Can't you see that you're being played with?
CLARE. If you insinuate anything against Mr. Malise, you lie.
LADY DEDMOND. If you will do these things--come to a man's rooms----
CLARE. I came to Mr. Malise because he's the only person I know with imagination enough to see what my position is; I came to him a quarter of an hour ago, for the first time, for definite advice, and you instantly suspect him. That is disgusting.
LADY DEDMOND. [Frigidly] Is this the natural place for me to find my son's wife?
CLARE. His woman.
LADY DEDMOND. Will you listen to Reginald?
CLARE. I have.
LADY DEDMOND. Haven't you any religious sense at all, Clare?
CLARE. None, if it's religion to live as we do.
LADY DEDMOND. It's terrible--this state of mind! It's really terrible!
CLARE breaks into the soft laugh of the other evening. As if galvanized by the sound, SIR CHARLES comes to life out of the transfixed bewilderment with which he has been listening.
SIR CHARLES. For God's sake don't laugh like that!
[CLARE Stops]
LADY DEDMOND. [With real feeling] For the sake of the simple right, Clare!
CLARE. Right? Whatever else is right--our life is not. [She puts her hand on her heart] I swear before God that I've tried and tried.
I swear before God, that if I believed we could ever again love each other only a little tiny bit, I'd go back. I swear before God that I don't want to hurt anybody.
LADY DEDMOND. But you are hurting everybody. Do--do be reasonable!
