Builder. [Staring at her] You’re a temptress!

Camille.  I lofe pleasure, and I don’t get any.  And you ’ave such a duty, you don’t get any sport.  Well, I am ’ere!

     She stretches herself, and builder utters a deep sound.

Builder. [On the edge of succumbing] It’s all against my—­I won’t do it!  It’s—­it’s wrong!

Camille.  Oh!  La, la!

Builder. [Suddenly revolting] No!  If you thought it a sin—­I—­might. 
But you don’t; you’re nothing but a—­a little heathen.

Camille.  Why should it be better if I thought it a sin?

Builder.  Then—­then I should know where I was.  As it is—­

Camille.  The English ’ave no idea of pleasure.  They make it all so coarse and virtuous.

Builder.  Now, out you go before I—!  Go on!

     He goes over to the door and opens it.  His wife is outside in a hat
     and coat.  She comes in.

[Stammering] Oh!  Here you are—­I wanted you.

     Camille, taking up the tray, goes out Left, swinging her hips a very
     little.

Builder.  Going out?

Mrs builder.  Obviously.

Builder.  Where?

Mrs builder.  I don’t know at present.

Builder.  I wanted to talk to you about Maud.

Mrs builder.  It must wait.

Builder.  She’s-she’s actually gone and—­

Mrs builder.  I must tell you that I happened to look in a minute ago.

Builder. [In absolute dismay] You!  You what?

Mrs builder.  Yes.  I will put no obstacle in the way of your pleasures.

Builder. [Aghast] Put no obstacle?  What do you mean?  Julia, how can you say a thing like that?  Why, I’ve only just—­

Mrs builder.  Don’t!  I saw.

Builder.  The girl fell on my knees.  Julia, she did.  She’s—­she’s a little devil.  I—­I resisted her.  I give you my word there’s been nothing beyond a kiss, under great provocation.  I—­I apologise.

Mrs builder. [Bows her head] Thank you!  I quite understand.  But you must forgive my feeling it impossible to remain a wet blanket any longer.

Builder.  What!  Because of a little thing like that—­all over in two minutes, and I doing my utmost.

Mrs builder.  My dear John, the fact that you had to do your utmost is quite enough.  I feel continually humiliated in your house, and I want to leave it—­quite quietly, without fuss of any kind.

Builder.  But—­my God!  Julia, this is awful—­it’s absurd!  How can you?  I’m your husband.  Really—­your saying you don’t mind what I do—­it’s not right; it’s immoral!