More.  God knows—­I never meant——­

Katherine.  If I’m not yours in spirit—­I don’t choose to be your—­ mistress.

     More, as if lashed by a whip, has thrown up his hands in an
     attitude of defence.

Katherine.  Yes, that’s cruel!  It shows the heights you live on.  I won’t drag you down.

More.  For God’s sake, put your pride away, and see!  I’m fighting for the faith that’s in me.  What else can a man do?  What else?  Ah!  Kit!  Do see!

Katherine.  I’m strangled here!  Doing nothing—­sitting silent—­when my brothers are fighting, and being killed.  I shall try to go out nursing.  Helen will come with me.  I have my faith, too; my poor common love of country.  I can’t stay here with you.  I spent last night on the floor—­thinking—­and I know!

More.  And Olive?

Katherine.  I shall leave her at Father’s, with Nurse; unless you forbid me to take her.  You can.

More. [Icily] That I shall not do—­you know very well.  You are free to go, and to take her.

Katherine. [Very low] Thank you! [Suddenly she turns to him, and draws his eyes on her.  Without a sound, she puts her whole strength into that look] Stephen!  Give it up!  Come down to me!

     The festive sounds from the street grow louder.  There can be
     heard the blowing of whistles, and bladders, and all the sounds
     of joy.

More.  And drown in—­that?

Katherine turns swiftly to the door.  There she stands and again looks at him.  Her face is mysterious, from the conflicting currents of her emotions.

More.  So—­you’re going?

Katherine. [In a whisper] Yes.

She bends her head, opens the door, and goes.  More starts forward as if to follow her, but olive has appeared in the doorway.  She has on a straight little white coat and a round white cap.

Olive.  Aren’t you coming with us, Daddy?

     [More shakes his head.]

Olive.  Why not?

More.  Never mind, my dicky bird.

Olive.  The motor’ll have to go very slow.  There are such a lot of people in the street.  Are you staying to stop them setting the house on fire? [More nods] May I stay a little, too? [More shakes his head] Why?

More. [Putting his hand on her head] Go along, my pretty!

Olive.  Oh! love me up, Daddy!

     [More takes and loves her up]

Olive.  Oo-o!

More.  Trot, my soul!

     [She goes, looks back at him, turns suddenly, and vanishes.]

More follows her to the door, but stops there.  Then, as full realization begins to dawn on him, he runs to the bay window, craning his head to catch sight of the front door.  There is the sound of a vehicle starting, and the continual hooting of its horn as it makes its way among the crowd.  He turns from the window.

More.  Alone as the last man on earth!