Dancy stands looking down at her.

Dancy.  Pity you wouldn’t come to Africa three months ago.

Mabel.  Why didn’t you tell me then?  I would have gone.

Dancy.  You wanted this case.  Well, it’s fallen down.

Mabel.  Oh!  Why didn’t I face it?  But I couldn’t—­I had to believe.

Dancy.  And now you can’t.  It’s the end, Mabel.

Mabel. [Looking up at him] No.

     Dancy goes suddenly on his knees and seizes her hand.

Dancy.  Forgive me!

Mabel. [Putting her hand on his head] Yes; oh, yes!  I think I’ve known a long time, really.  Only—­why?  What made you?

Dancy. [Getting up and speaking in jerks] It was a crazy thing to do; but, damn it, I was only looting a looter.  The money was as much mine as his.  A decent chap would have offered me half.  You didn’t see the brute look at me that night at dinner as much as to say:  “You blasted fool!” It made me mad.  That wasn’t a bad jump-twice over.  Nothing in the war took quite such nerve. [Grimly] I rather enjoyed that evening.

Mabel.  But—­money!  To keep it!

Dancy. [Sullenly] Yes, but I had a debt to pay.

Mabel.  To a woman?

Dancy.  A debt of honour—­it wouldn’t wait.

Mabel.  It was—­it was to a woman.  Ronny, don’t lie any more.

Dancy. [Grimly] Well!  I wanted to save your knowing.  I’d promised a thousand.  I had a letter from her father that morning, threatening to tell you.  All the same, if that tyke hadn’t jeered at me for parlour tricks!—­But what’s the good of all this now? [Sullenly] Well—­it may cure you of loving me.  Get over that, Mab; I never was worth it—­and I’m done for!

Mabel.  The woman—­have you—­since—?

Dancy. [Energetically] No!  You supplanted her.  But if you’d known I was leaving a woman for you, you’d never have married me. [He walks over to the hearth].

     Mabel too gets up.  She presses her hands to her forehead, then
     walks blindly round to behind the sofa and stands looking straight
     in front of her.

Mabel. [Coldly] What has happened, exactly?

Dancy.  Sir Frederic chucked up the case.  I’ve seen Twisden; they want me to run for it to Morocco.

Mabel.  To the war there?

Dancy.  Yes.  There’s to be a warrant out.

Mabel.  A prosecution?  Prison?  Oh, go!  Don’t wait a minute!  Go!

Dancy.  Blast them!

Mabel.  Oh, Ronny!  Please!  Please!  Think what you’ll want.  I’ll pack. 
Quick!  No!  Don’t wait to take things.  Have you got money?

Dancy. [Nodding] This’ll be good-bye, then!