MRS. FULLARTON. Of course--the only thing is that----
CLARE. [With a faint smile] It's all right, Dolly. I'm not coming.
MRS. FULLARTON. Oh! don't do anything desperate, Clare--you are so
desperate sometimes. You ought to make terms--not tracks.
CLARE. Haggle? [She shakes her head] What have I got to make terms
with? What he still wants is just what I hate giving.
MRS. FULLARTON. But, Clare----
CLARE. No, Dolly; even you don't understand. All day and every day
--just as far apart as we can be--and still--Jolly, isn't it? If
you've got a soul at all.
MRS. FULLARTON. It's awful, really.
CLARE. I suppose there are lots of women who feel as I do, and go on
with it; only, you see, I happen to have something in me that--comes
to an end. Can't endure beyond a certain time, ever.
She has taken a flower from her dress, and suddenly tears it to
bits. It is the only sign of emotion she has given.
MRS. FULLARTON. [Watching] Look here, my child; this won't do. You
must get a rest. Can't Reggie take you with him to India for a bit?
CLARE. [Shaking her head] Reggie lives on his pay.
MRS. FULLARTON. [With one of her quick looks] That was Mr. Malise,
then?
FULLARTON. [Coming towards them] I say, Mrs. Dedmond, you wouldn't
sing me that little song you sang the other night, [He hums] "If I
might be the falling bee and kiss thee all the day"? Remember?
MRS. FULLARTON. "The falling dew," Edward.
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