Julia.  Never!  We are engaged in the eye of—­the eye of—­

Charteris (sitting down quickly beside her).  Yes, Julia.  Can’t you get it out?  In the eye of something that advanced women don’t believe in, en?

Julia (throwing herself at his feet).  O Leonard, don’t be cruel.  I am too miserable to argue—­to think.  I only know I love you.  You reproach me with not wanting to marry you.  I would have married you at any time after I came to love you, if you had asked me.  I will marry you now if you will.

Charteris.  I won’t, my dear.  That’s flat.  We’re intellectually incompatible.

Julia.  But why?  We could be so happy.  You love me—­I know you love me—­I feel it.  You say “My dear” to me:  you have said it several times this evening.  I know I have been wicked, odious, bad.  I say nothing in defence of myself.  But don’t be hard on me.  I was distracted by the thought of losing you.  I can’t face life without you Leonard.  I was happy when I met you:  I had never loved anyone; and if you had only let me alone I could have gone on contentedly by myself.  But I can’t now.  I must have you with me.  Don’t cast me off without a thought of all I have at stake.  I could be a friend to you if you would only let me—­if you would only tell me your plans—­give me a share in your work—–­treat me as something more than the amusement of an idle hour.  Oh Leonard, Leonard, you’ve never given me a chance:  indeed you haven’t.  I’ll take pains; I’ll read; I’ll try to think; I’ll conquer my jealousy; I’ll—­ (She breaks down, rocking her head desperately on his knee and writhing.) Oh, I’m mad:  I’m mad:  you’ll kill me if you desert me.

Charteris (petting her).  My dear love, don’t cry—­don’t go on in this way.  You know I can’t help it.

Julia (sobbing as he rises and coaxingly lifts her with him).  Oh, you can, you can.  One word from you will make us happy for ever.

Charteris (diplomatically).  Come, my dear:  we really must go.  We can’t stay until Cuthbertson comes. (Releases her gently and takes her mantle from the table.) Here is your mantle:  put it on and be good.  You have given me a terrible evening:  you must have some consideration for me.

Julia (dangerous again).  Then I am to be cast off.

Charteris (coaxingly).  You are to put on your bonnet, dearest. (He puts the mantle on her shoulders.)

Julia (with a bitter half laugh, half sob).  Well, I suppose I must do what I am told. (She goes to the table, and looks for her bonnet.  She sees the yellow-backed French novel.) Ah, look at that! (holds it out to him.) Look—­look at what the creature reads—­filthy, vile French stuff that no decent woman would touch.  And you—­you have been reading it with her.

Charteris.  You recommended that book to me yourself.

Julia.  Faugh! (Dashes it on the floor.)