Charteris (running anxiously to the book).  Don’t damage property, Julia. (He picks it up and dusts it.) Making scenes is an affair of sentiment:  damaging property is serious. (Replaces it on the table.) And now do pray come along.

Julia (implacably).  You can go:  there is nothing to prevent you.  I will not stir. (She sits down stubbornly on the sofa.)

Charteris (losing patience).  Oh come!  I am not going to begin all this over again.  There are limits even to my forbearance.  Come on.

Julia.  I will not, I tell you.

Charteris.  Then good night. (He makes resolutely for the door.  With a rush, she gets there before him, and bars his way.) I thought you wanted me to go.

Julia (at the door).  You shall not leave me here alone.

Charteris.  Then come with me.

Julia.  Not until you have sworn to me to give up that woman.

Charteris.  My dear, I will swear anything if you will only come away and put an end to this.

Julia (perplexed—­doubting him).  You will swear?

Charteris.  Solemnly.  Propose the oath.  I have been on the point of swearing for the last half hour.

Julia (despairingly).  You are only making fun of me.  I want no oaths. 
I want your promise—­your sacred word of honour.

Charteris.  Certainly—­anything you demand, on condition that you come away immediately.  On my sacred word of honour as a gentleman—­as an Englishman—­as anything you like—­I will never see her again, never speak to her, never think of her.  Now come.

Julia.  But are you in earnest?  Will you keep your word?

Charteris (smiling subtly).  Now you are getting unreasonable.  Do come along without any more nonsense.  At any rate, I am going.  I am not strong enough to carry you home; but I am strong enough to make my way through that door in spite of you.  You will then have a new grievance against me for my brutal violence. (He takes a step towards the door.)

Julia (solemnly).  If you do, I swear I will throw myself from that window, Leonard, as you pass out.

Charteris (unimpressed).  That window is at the back of the building.  I shall pass out at the front; so you will not hurt me.  Good night. (He approaches the door.)

Julia.  Leonard:  have you no pity?

Charteris.  Not in the least.  When you condescend to these antics you force me to despise you.  How can a woman who behaves like a spoiled child and talks like a sentimental novel have the audacity to dream of being a companion for a man of any sort of sense or character? (She gives an inarticulate cry and throws herself sobbing on his breast.) Come, don’t cry, my dear Julia:  you don’t look half so beautiful as when you’re happy; and it takes all the starch out of my shirt front.  Come along.