Clare.  Yes. [She points to the chair at the same table:  Mrs.
Fullarton sits down] Now!

     [Twisden comes forward]

Twisden.  As you’re not defending this case, Mrs. Dedmond, there is nobody but yourself for me to apply to.

Clare.  Please tell me quickly, what you’ve come for.

Twisden. [Bowing slightly] I am instructed by Mr. Dedmond to say that if you will leave your present companion and undertake not to see him again, he will withdraw the suit and settle three hundred a year on you. [At CLARE’s movement of abhorrence] Don’t misunderstand me, please—­it is not—­it could hardly be, a request that you should go back.  Mr. Dedmond is not prepared to receive you again.  The proposal—­forgive my saying so—­remarkably Quixotic—­is made to save the scandal to his family and your own.  It binds you to nothing but the abandonment of your present companion, with certain conditions of the same nature as to the future.  In other words, it assures you a position—­so long as you live quietly by yourself.

Clare.  I see.  Will you please thank Mr. Dedmond, and say that I refuse?

Mrs. Fullarton.  Clare, Clare!  For God’s sake don’t be desperate.

     [Clare, deathly still, just looks at her]

Twisden.  Mrs. Dedmond, I am bound to put the position to you in its naked brutality.  You know there’s a claim for damages?

Clare.  I have just learnt it.

Twisden.  You realize what the result of this suit must be:  You will be left dependent on an undischarged bankrupt.  To put it another way, you’ll be a stone round the neck of a drowning man.

Clare.  You are cowards.

Mrs. Fullarton.  Clare, Clare! [To Twisden] She doesn’t mean it; please be patient.

Clare.  I do mean it.  You ruin him because of me.  You get him down, and kick him to intimidate me.

Mrs. Fullarton.  My dear girl!  Mr. Twisden is not personally concerned.  How can you?

Clare.  If I were dying, and it would save me, I wouldn’t take a penny from my husband.

Twisden.  Nothing could be more bitter than those words.  Do you really wish me to take them back to him?

Clare.  Yes. [She turns from them to the fire]

Mrs. Fullarton. [In a low voice to Twisden] Please leave me alone with her, don’t say anything to Mr. Dedmond yet.

Twisden.  Mrs. Dedmond, I told you once that I wished you well.  Though you have called me a coward, I still do that.  For God’s sake, think—­before it’s too late.

Clare. [Putting out her hand blindly] I’m sorry I called you a coward.  It’s the whole thing, I meant.

Twisden.  Never mind that.  Think!