We simply must go,
Clare. Good-night. [She kisses her.]
FULLARTON. [Taking half-cover between his wife and CLARE] It suits
you down to the ground-that dress.
CLARE. Good-night.
HUNTINGDON sees them out. Left alone CLARE clenches her hands,
moves swiftly across to the window, and stands looking out.
HUNTINGDON. [Returning] Look here, Clare!
CLARE. Well, Reggie?
HUNTINGDON. This is working up for a mess, old girl. You can't do
this kind of thing with impunity. No man'll put up with it. If
you've got anything against George, better tell me. [CLARE shakes
her head] You ought to know I should stick by you. What is it?
Come?
CLARE. Get married, and find out after a year that she's the wrong
person; so wrong that you can't exchange a single real thought; that
your blood runs cold when she kisses you--then you'll know.
HUNTINGDON. My dear old girl, I don't want to be a brute; but it's a
bit difficult to believe in that, except in novels.
CLARE. Yes, incredible, when you haven't tried.
HUNTINGDON. I mean, you--you chose him yourself. No one forced you
to marry him.
CLARE. It does seem monstrous, doesn't it?
HUNTINGDON. My dear child, do give us a reason.
CLARE. Look! [She points out at the night and the darkening towers]
If George saw that for the first time he'd just say, "Ah,
Westminster! Clock Tower! Can you see the time by it?" As if one
cared where or what it was--beautiful like that! Apply that to every
--every--everything.
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