Kenneth , when this is paid , I shall have made two pound seventeen in the three months , and saved you about three pounds . One hundred and seventeen shillings at tenpence a thousand is one hundred and forty thousand words at fourteen hundred words an hour . It 's only just over an hour a day . Ca n't you get me more ? MALISE lifts the hand that holds his pen and lets it fall again . CLARE puts the cover on the typewriter , and straps it . I 'm quite packed . Shall I pack for you ?Ca n't we have more than three days at the sea ?You did sleep last night . Bad head ?By this time the day after to-morrow the case will be heard and done with . You 're not worrying for me ? Except for my poor old Dad , I do n't care a bit . MALISE heaves himself out of the chair , and begins pacing up and down . Kenneth , do you understand why he does n't claim damages , after what he said that day-here ?It is true that he does n't ? But you told me yourself Why ? How much am I valued at ? Will you have to pay ? Ca n't you borrow ? Will they make you bankrupt , then ?But that does n't mean that you wo n't have your income , does it ?What is your income , Kenneth ?A hundred and fifty from “ The Watchfire , ” I know . What else ? What else ? Tell me . Where are you going ? Where was it ? Give it to me ! Give it to me ! Do n't ! This last business — what do you mean by that ? Please . Yes ? It 's inhuman ! Thank you , Mrs. Miler — I 'm glad to know . Do n't ! Will you go out and do something for me ?Take this with the note to that address — it 's quite close . He 'll give you thirty pounds for it . Please pay these bills and bring me back the receipts , and what 's over . Yes . It was my mother 's . Nothing more , Mrs. Miler , not even a wedding ring . Mrs. Fullarton ?Ask them to come in . Yes ? Yes .Now ! Please tell me quickly , what you 've come for . I see . Will you please thank Mr. Dedmond , and say that I refuse ? I have just learnt it . You are cowards . I do mean it . You ruin him because of me . You get him down , and kick him to intimidate me . If I were dying , and it would save me , I would n't take a penny from my husband . Yes . I 'm sorry I called you a coward . It 's the whole thing , I meant . Please do n't , Dolly ! Let me be ! You say George is generous ! If he wanted to be that he 'd never have claimed these damages . It 's revenge he wants — I heard him here . You think I 've done him an injury . So I did — when I married him . I do n't know what I shall come to , Dolly , but I sha n't fall so low as to take money from him . That 's as certain as that I shall die . After this ! “ If I could be the falling bee , and kiss thee all the day ! ” No , Dolly ! Are n't I ? You see , I love him . Did I ? How funny ! One does n't always know the future , does one ? I love him ! I love him ! Go away ! Go away ! I must — I will keep him . He 's all I 've got . Go ! Well ? “ The Watchfire ? ” You may as well tell me . Then you are to lose that , too ?I know about it — never mind how . There are other things to be got , are n't there ? Kenneth , do you care for me ?Am I anything to you but just prettiness ? Yes . Give me a kiss ! He turns and kisses her . But his lips , after that kiss , have the furtive bitterness one sees on the lips of those who have done what does not suit their mood . He goes out . She is left motionless by the armchair , her throat working . Then , feverishly , she goes to the little table , seizes a sheet of paper , and writes . Looking up suddenly she sees that MRS. MILER has let herself in with her latchkey . Take your wages ; and give him this when he comes in . I 'm going away . I sha n't be coming back .I 'm leaving Mr. Malise , and sha n't see him again . And the suit against us will be withdrawn — the divorce suit — you understand ? It 's not you . I can see for myself . Do n't make it harder ; help me . Get a cab . Tell him to come for my trunk . It is packed . Yes . Do n't ! It 's all right . Good-bye ! She walks out and away , not looking back . MRS. MILER chokes her sobbing into the black stuff of her thick old jacket . CURTAIN ACT IV Supper-time in a small room at “ The Gascony ” on Derby Day . Through the windows of a broad corridor , out of which the door opens , is seen the dark blue of a summer night . The walls are of apricot-gold ; the carpets , curtains , lamp-shades , and gilded chairs , of red ; the wood-work and screens white ; the palms in gilded tubs . A doorway that has no door leads to another small room . One little table behind a screen , and one little table in the open , are set for two persons each . On a service-table , above which hangs a speaking-tube , are some dishes of hors d'ouvres , a basket of peaches , two bottles of champagne in ice-pails , and a small barrel of oysters in a gilded tub . ARNAUD , the waiter , slim , dark , quick , his face seamed with a quiet , soft irony , is opening oysters and listening to the robust joy of a distant supper-party , where a man is playing the last bars of : “ Do ye ken John Peel ” on a horn . As the sound dies away , he murmurs : “ Tres Joli ! ” and opens another oyster . Two Ladies with bare shoulders and large hats pass down the corridor . Their talk is faintly wafted in : “ Well , I never like Derby night ! The boys do get so bobbish ! ” “ That horn — vulgar , I call it ! ” ARNAUD 'S eyebrows rise , the corners of his mouth droop . A Lady with bare shoulders , and crimson roses in her hair , comes along the corridor , and stops for a second at the window , for a man to join her . They come through into the room . ARNAUD has sprung to attention , but with : “ Let 's go in here , shall we ? ” they pass through into the further room . The MANAGER , a gentleman with neat moustaches , and buttoned into a frock-coat , has appeared , brisk , noiseless , his eyes everywhere ; he inspects the peaches . Must I order ? No . You are very kind . How d'you do ? Where ? Yes . As he sits down , ARNAUD returns and stands before them . Do they ? It does n't matter . It 's all right , thank you . The YOUNG MAN sits down again , uncomfortable , nonplussed . There is silence , broken by the inaudible words of the languid lord , and the distant merriment of the supper-party . ARNAUD brings the plovers ’ eggs . No . Everything has a beginning , has n't it ? ‘ Le vin est tire , il faut le boire ’ ! No , I do n't ; really . I had the sense to keep them . I can n't take , for nothing . That 's not your fault , is it ? You see , I 've been beaten all along the line . And I really do n't care what happens to me .I really do n't ; except that I do n'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 . Oh , yes ; I 've had people , and a husband , and — everything —— And here I am ! Queer , is n't it ?This is going to my head ! Do you mind ? I sha'n ' t sing songs and get up and dance , and I wo n't cry , I promise you ! Have you got sisters ?My brother 's in India . I sha'n ' t meet him , anyway . Who are those two ? You 're not going to find out my name . I have n't got one — nothing . She leans her bare elbows on the table , and her face on her hands . First of June ! This day last year I broke covert — I 've been running ever since . Yes . What 's the other side ? The YOUNG MAN puts out his hand and touches her arm . It is meant for sympathy , but she takes it for attraction . Not yet please ! I 'm enjoying this . May I have a cigarette ? Yes , I 'm enjoying it . Had a pretty poor time lately ; not enough to eat , sometimes . Thank you . Eat and drink , for tomorrow we — Listen ! From the supper-party comes the sound of an abortive chorus : “ With a hey ho , chivy , hark forrard , hark forrard , tantivy ! ” Jarring out into a discordant whoop , it sinks . “ This day a stag must die . ” Jolly old song ! Have n't kept my end up . Lots of women do ! You see : I 'm too fine , and not fine enough ! My best friend said that . Too fine , and not fine enough .I could n't be a saint and martyr , and I would n't be a soulless doll . Neither one thing nor the other — that 's the tragedy . I did try .But what 's the good — when there 's nothing before you ?— Do I look ill ? A man once said to me : “ As you have n't money , you should never have been pretty ! ” But , you see , it is some good . If I had n't been , I could n't have risked coming here , could I ? Do n't you think it was rather sporting of me to buy thesewith the last shilling over from my cab fare ? It 's no use doing things by halves , is it ? I 'm — in for it — wish me luck !In for it — deep !Down , down , till they 're just above water , and then — down , down , down , and — all over ! Are you sorry now you came and spoke to me ? Thank God for beauty ! I hope I shall die pretty ! Do you think I shall do well ? I want to know . Do you ? That 's splendid . Those poor women in the streets would give their eyes , would n't they ?— that have to go up and down , up and down ! Do you think I — shall —— The YOUNG MAN , half-rising , puts his hand on her arm . No , thanks . Yes . The YOUNG MAN turns to look for the waiter , but ARNAUD is not in the room . He gets up .