Denham.

(pacing about angrily) Intrigue!  Yes, of course.  You always knew the value of an ugly word. (Restraining himself.) Otherwise you have put the abstract morality of the thing admirably.  But I am unprincipled enough not to want to desert my wife and child, merely because I love another woman.

Mrs. Denham.

Oh yes, compromise, compromise, the god that men worship!  Go to your mistress, if she will have you.  I renounce you.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(laughing bitterly) Excuse me, but our little comedy is played out.  I am out of the story. (Exit.)

Denham.

(crosses up to door) Stay, Blanche!  You must not go like this.  One moment, Constance.

(Exit, following Mrs. Tremaine.)

Mrs. Denham.

(flinging herself down on the sofa) My God! my God! what am I to do?  How am I to live?  I cannot stay in this house with a man who no longer loves me.  Oh, if she had not come between us!  Yes, yes!  A pretty face and a little flattery outweighs a life’s devotion.  Oh, it is hard, it is hard!

(A pause.  Then enter Undine.)

Undine.

Mother!  Are you sick?

Mrs. Denham.

No, dear.  I have a headache, that’s all.

Undine.

I’m sorry, mother. (Kisses her.)

Mrs. Denham.

(clasping her in her arms) Well, what does my little girl want now?

Undine.

May I go and play with Maude and Bertie after school to-morrow, and stay to tea?

Mrs. Denham.

You may go and play; but you know I cannot let you stay to tea.

Undine.

Oh, but why?  They want me to stay to tea.

Mrs. Denham.

You know you broke your promise the last time, and stayed without leave.

Undine.

But I forgot—­I really did.

Mrs. Denham.

You must be taught not to forget.  Now I’ll give you one more chance.  You may go and play, but you must come back to tea.  Promise me that you will.

Undine.

Well, I promise.  But it’s very hard to remember promises, when you want to do a thing very much.

Mrs. Denham.

Yes; but you must learn to be trustworthy.  Now run away. (Exit
Undine.)

The child hates me, I know.  I suppose I must expect nothing but dislike and contempt.  She is her father’s child.  I wish I had died long ago. (Crosses R, and sits by table.)

(A pause, then re-enter Denham.)

Denham.

Well, Blanche is gone.

Mrs. Denham.

(listlessly) Indeed!

Denham.

(seating himself) To the advanced moralist, I know I am an object of contempt.  I can’t help that.

Mrs. Denham.

(rising) If you have come here to insult me with sneering speeches, I will go. (Crosses C up stage.)