_Dolly._ Harry, you don't mean that? Oh, that's absurd with our income!

_Harry._ Will you have the goodness to do as I say, and at once, please?

[_He is dotting down figures. She stands still in the middle of the room._] Did you hear me?

[_She bursts into tears. He turns round and shows symptoms of relenting towards her, but steels himself and turns to the bills.

She bursts into renewed tears. He goes on figuring._

_Dolly._ [_Piteously._] Harry! Harry! [_Goes up to him and plucks his sleeve._] Harry!

_Harry._ Well?

[_He turns and looks at her, is about to yield, but resists, turns away from her, settles resolutely to his figures._

_Dolly._ And on the first night of the New Year, too! Just as we were going to be so happy! Harry! [_Holds out her arms appealingly._] Harry!

[HARRY _suddenly turns round and clasps her._] How could you be so unkind to me?

_Harry._ Was I? I didn't mean to be. Now! Dry your tears, and help me reckon this up----

_Dolly._ Ye-es.

_Harry._ But first of all let me have the remainder of the bills----

_Dolly._ Yes.

_Harry._ At once, my darling--it's getting late.

_Dolly._ Yes. [_Goes up to desk._] You won't reproach me?

_Harry._ Of course I won't.

_Dolly._ I can bear anything except your reproaches. Promise you won't reproach me.

_Harry._ I won't, unless----

_Dolly._ Unless what?

_Harry._ It's something too awful.

_Dolly._ Oh, it isn't. Not at all. Not at all. [_Goes up to the desk, brings down about ten more bills with great affected cheerfulness._]

There! You see, it's nothing.

_Harry._ [_Hastily looking at the totals._] Nothing? You call these nothing!!?

_Dolly._ Nothing to speak about--nothing awful!

_Harry._ Good heavens! How any woman with the least care for her husband, or her home---- [_looking at one total after another_] how any woman with the least self-respect---- [DOLLY _goes to him, puts her arms round him, tries to embrace--he repulses her._] No, please. I've had enough of that old dodge.

_Dolly._ Dodge!

_Harry._ I remember that last two hundred pounds and how you sweedled me out of it!

_Dolly._ Sweedled?

_Harry._ Yes! Sweedled!

_Dolly._ There's no such word!

_Harry._ No, but there's the thing! As most husbands know. [_Referring to one bill after another, picking out items._] Lace coat, hand-made!

En-tout-cas, studded cabochons of lapis lazuli--studded cabochons--studded cabochons!

_Dolly._ [_Has quietly seated herself, and is looking at the ceiling._]

Couldn't you manage to pitch your voice in rather a softer key?

_Harry._ [_Comes angrily down to her, bills in hand, speaks in a whisper, very rapidly and fiercely._] Yes! And I say that a woman who goes and runs up bills like these, [_dashing the back of one hand against the bills in the other_] while her husband is smoking threepenny cigars, will very soon bring herself and him to one of those new palatial workhouses where, thank heaven, the cuisine and appointments are now organized with a view of providing persons of your tastes with every luxury at the ratepayers' expense. [_Returns angrily to the bills, turns them over._] Irish lace bolero! [_Turns to another._] Fur motor coat, fifty-five guineas----

_Dolly._ [_Calmly gazing at the ceiling._] You told me to look as smart as Mrs. Colefield.

_Harry._ Not at that price! If I'd known what that motor tour would cost by Jove! I'd----

_Dolly._ You're getting noisy again. You'll wake my father.

_Harry._ He ought to be waked! He ought to know what his daughter is saddling me with.

_Dolly._ Very well, if you don't care how shabby I look----

_Harry._ Shabby! [_Referring to bills._] Lace demi-toilette! Point de Venise lace Directoire coat! Shabby?

_Dolly._ My dear Harry, do you suppose we shall ever agree as to what const.i.tutes shabbiness?

_Harry._ No, I'm hanged if we ever shall!

_Dolly._ Then suppose we drop the subject. For the future I shall endeavor to please you entirely.

_Harry._ Oh, you will?

_Dolly._ By dressing so that you'll be ashamed to be seen in the same street with me. I shall make myself a perfect fright--a perfect dowdy--a perfect draggletail!

_Harry._ Then I shall not be seen in the same street with you.

_Dolly._ You won't?

_Harry._ No, my dear. Make no mistake about that!

_Dolly._ You'll be seen with somebody else, perhaps?

_Harry._ Very likely.

_Dolly._ Have you met Miss Smithson again?