GUENEVERE. Yes?

MARY. And then he woke up--and he was angry at me. He swore at me. And then he laughed, and kissed me again, and put me out of the room.

GUENEVERE. Yes, yes. And that--that was all?

MARY. I came home. I thought I would have died. I knew I had been wicked. Oh, Mrs. Robinson--(_She breaks down and sobs_.)

GUENEVERE. (_patting her head_) Poor child, it's all right. You aren't so wicked as you think. Oh, I'm so glad!

MARY. But it's jest the same, Mrs. Robinson. I wanted to be wicked.

GUENEVERE. Never mind, Mary. We all want to be wicked at times. But something always happens. It's all right. You're a good girl, Mary.

There, stop crying!... Of course, of course! I might have known.

Lancelot couldn't--and yet, I wonder.... Mary, stand up and let me look at you!

MARY. (_obeying_) Yes, ma'am.

GUENEVERE. (_in a strange tone_) You're a very good-looking girl, Mary.... So he laughed, and gave you a kiss, and led you to the door!... Well! Go to bed and think no more about it. It's all right.

MARY. Do you really think so, Mrs. Robinson? Isn't it the same thing if you _want_ to be wicked--

GUENEVERE. You're talking like a professor of philosophy now, Mary. And you're a woman, and you ought to know better. No, it isn't the same thing, at all. Run along, child.

MARY. Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am. Good night, ma'am.

_She goes_.

GUENEVERE. Good-night, Mary. (_She returns to her darning. She smiles to herself, then becomes serious, stops work, and looks at the clock.

Then she says_)--Vivien! Vivien's tears! Poor Lancelot! Oh, well!

(_She shrugs her shoulders, and goes on working. Then suddenly she puts down her work, rises, and walks restlessly about the room....

There is a knock at the door. She turns and stares at the door. The knock is repeated. She is silent, motionless for a moment. Then she says, almost in a whisper_)--Come!

_A young man enters_.

GUENEVERE. Lancelot!

LANCELOT. Guenevere! (_They go up to each other, and he takes both her hands. They stand that way for a moment. Then he says lightly_) --Darning King Arthur's socks, I see!

GUENEVERE. (_releasing herself, and going back to her chair_) Yes.

Sit down.

LANCELOT. Where's his royal highness?

GUENEVERE. New York. Why don't you ever come to see us?

LANCELOT. (_not answering_) Charming domestic picture!

GUENEVERE. Don't be silly!

LANCELOT. I am going away.

GUENEVERE. Are you? I'm sorry. Don't you like our little village?

LANCELOT. Thought I'd stop in to say good-bye.

GUENEVERE. That's very sweet of you.

LANCELOT. (_rising_) I've got to go back and finish packing.

GUENEVERE. Not really?

LANCELOT. Going in the morning.

GUENEVERE. Why the haste? The summer's just begun. I hear you've been doing some awfully good things. I was going over to see them.

LANCELOT. Thanks. Sorry to disappoint you. But I've taken it into my head to leave.

GUENEVERE. You're not going tonight, anyway. Sit down and talk to me.

LANCELOT. All right. (_He sits, constrainedly_.) What shall I talk about?

GUENEVERE. (_smiling_) Your work.

LANCELOT. (_impatiently_) You're not interested in my work.

GUENEVERE. Your love-affairs, then.

LANCELOT. Don't want to.

GUENEVERE. Then read to me. There's some books on the table.

LANCELOT. (_opening a serious-looking magazine_) Here's an article on "The Concept of Happiness"--by Professor Arthur B. Robinson. Shall I read that?

GUENEVERE. I gather that you are not as fond of my husband as I am, Lancelot. But try to be nice to me, anyway. Read some poetry.

LANCELOT. (_takes a book from the table, and reads_)--

"It needs no maxims drawn from Socrates To tell me this is madness in my blood--"

_He pauses. She looks up inquiringly. Presently he goes on reading--_

"Nor does what wisdom I have learned from these Serve to abate my most unreasoned mood.

What would I of you? What gift could you bring, That to await you in the common street Sets all my secret ecstasy a-wing Into wild regions of sublime retreat?

And if you come, you will speak common words--"

_He stops, and flings the book across the room. She looks up_.

GUENEVERE. Don't you like it?