Lever.  Do you mean she does?

Mrs. Gwyn.  Her heart knows.

     [Lever makes a movement of discomfiture; suddenly Mrs. Gwyn
     looks at him as though to read his soul.]

I seem to bring you nothing but worry, Maurice.  Are you tired of me?

Lever. [Meeting her eyes.] No, I am not.

Mrs. Gwyn.  Ah, but would you tell me if you were?

Lever. [Softly.] Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

     [Mrs. Gwyn struggles to look at him, then covers her face with
     her hands.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  If I were to give you up, you’d forget me in a month.

Lever.  Why do you say such things?

Mrs. Gwyn.  If only I could believe I was necessary to you!

Lever. [Forcing the fervour of his voice.] But you are!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Am I? [With the ghost of a smile.] Midsummer day!

     [She gives a laugh that breaks into a sob.]

     [The music o f a waltz sounds from the house.]

Lever.  For God’s sake, don’t, Molly—­I don’t believe in going to meet trouble.

Mrs. Gwyn.  It’s staring me in the face.

Lever.  Let the future take care of itself!

     [Mrs. Gwyn has turned away her face, covering it with her
     hands.]

Don’t, Molly! [Trying to pull her hands away.] Don’t!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Oh! what shall I do?

     [There is a silence; the music of the waltz sounds louder from
     the house.]

[Starting up.] Listen!  One can’t sit it out and dance it too.  Which is it to be, Maurice, dancing—­or sitting out?  It must be one or the other, must n’t it?

Lever.  Molly!  Molly!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Ah, my dear! [Standing away from him as though to show herself.] How long shall I keep you?  This is all that ’s left of me.  It ’s time I joined the wallflowers. [Smiling faintly.] It’s time I played the mother, is n’t it? [In a whisper.] It’ll be all sitting out then.

Lever.  Don’t!  Let’s go and dance, it’ll do you good.

     [He puts his hands on her arms, and in a gust of passion kisses
     her lips and throat.]

Mrs. Gwyn.  I can’t give you up—­I can’t.  Love me, oh! love me!

     [For a moment they stand so; then, with sudden remembrance of
     where they are, they move apart.]

Lever.  Are you all right now, darling?

Mrs. Gwyn. [Trying to smile.] Yes, dear—­quite.

Lever.  Then let ’s go, and dance. [They go.]