Couldn't help behaving like a shop-girl? My God! You were
brought up as well as I was.
CLARE. Alas!
GEORGE. To let everybody see that we don't get on--there's only one
word for it--Disgusting!
CLARE. I know.
GEORGE. Then why do you do it? I've always kept my end up. Why in
heaven's name do you behave in this crazy way?
CLARE. I'm sorry.
GEORGE. [With intense feeling] You like making a fool of me!
CLARE. No--Really! Only--I must break out sometimes.
GEORGE. There are things one does not do.
CLARE. I came in because I was sorry.
GEORGE. And at once began to do it again! It seems to me you
delight in rows.
CLARE. You'd miss your--reconciliations.
GEORGE. For God's sake, Clare, drop cynicism!
CLARE. And truth?
GEORGE. You are my wife, I suppose.
CLARE. And they twain shall be one--spirit.
GEORGE. Don't talk wild nonsense!
[There is silence.]
CLARE. [Softly] I don't give satisfaction. Please give me notice!
GEORGE. Pish!
CLARE. Five years, and four of them like this! I'm sure we've
served our time. Don't you really think we might get on better
together--if I went away?
GEORGE. I've told you I won't stand a separation for no real reason,
and have your name bandied about all over London. I have some
primitive sense of honour.
CLARE. You mean your name, don't you?
GEORGE. Look here. Did that fellow Malise put all this into your
head?
CLARE. No; my own evil nature.
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