Clare.  Why did you spy, here?

Sir Charles.  No, no!  Nobody’s spied on you.  What!

Twisden.  I’m afraid the answer is that we appear to have been justified. [At the expression on Clare’s face he goes on hastily] Now, Mrs. Dedmond, I’m a lawyer and I know that appearances are misleading.  Don’t think I’m unfriendly; I wish you well. [Clare raises her eyes.  Moved by that look, which is exactly as if she had said:  “I have no friends,” he hurries on] What we want to say to you is this:  Don’t let this split go on!  Don’t commit yourself to what you’ll bitterly regret.  Just tell us what’s the matter.  I’m sure it can be put straight.

Clare.  I have nothing against my husband—­it was quite unreasonable to leave him.

Twisden.  Come, that’s good.

Clare.  Unfortunately, there’s something stronger than reason.

Twisden.  I don’t know it, Mrs. Dedmond.

Clare.  No?

Twisden. [Disconcerted] Are you—­you oughtn’t to take a step without advice, in your position.

Clare.  Nor with it?

Twisden. [Approaching her] Come, now; isn’t there anything you feel you’d like to say—­that might help to put matters straight?

Clare.  I don’t think so, thank you.

Lady Dedmond.  You must see, Clare, that——­

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.