OTTOLINE.

Should I be here--[_indicating their proximity_] and _here_--if I hadn't?

PHILIP.

[_Pressing her hand to his lips ardently, and then freeing her shoulders from her coat._] Take this off----

OTTOLINE.

[_Gently resisting._] Poor Sir Timothy----!

PHILIP.

[_In high spirits._] Oh, a little exercise won't do Sir Timothy any harm! [_Helping her to slip her arms out of her coat._] Dash it, you might have let _me_ escort you to Bond Street!

OTTOLINE.

No, no; your work----

PHILIP.

[_His brow clouding._] W-w-work----?

OTTOLINE.

You mustn't lose your morning's work.

[_There is a short pause, and then he rises and moves a few steps away from her. With an impa.s.sive countenance, she fingers the b.u.t.tons of her gloves._

PHILIP.

[_Stroking the pattern of the carpet with his foot._] Otto----

OTTOLINE.

[_Looking up._] Yes, Phil?

PHILIP.

I asked Robbie to tell you, if he had the opportunity, that I've decided to make my farewell salaam to authorship. I'm no good at it; I'm a frost; I realize it at last. I've had my final whack on the jaw; I've fought--how many rounds?--and now I take the count and slink out of the ring, beat. [_Producing his keys, he goes to the cabinet on the right, unlocks it, and selects from several cardboard portfolios one which he carries to the writing-table. While he is doing this,_ OTTOLINE_--still with an expressionless face--rises and moves to the left, where she stands watching him. He opens the portfolio and, with a pained look, handles the sheets of ma.n.u.script in it._] Ha! You and I have often talked over this, haven't we, Otto?

OTTOLINE.

[_Calmly._] Often.

PHILIP.

[_Taking the ma.n.u.script from the portfolio--thoughtfully._] It was to have been--oh, such an advance on my previous stuff--kindlier, less strenuous, more urbane! Success--success!--had sweetened the gall in me! [_Glancing at a partly covered page._] Here's where I broke off yesterday. [_With a shrug._] In every man's life there's a chapter uncompleted, in one form or another! [_Throwing the ma.n.u.script into the portfolio._] Pst! Get back to your hole; I'll burn you later on. [_He rejoins her. She half turns from him, averting her head._] So end my pitiful strivings and ambitions! [_Laying his hand on her shoulder._]

Ah, it's a miserable match you're making, Ottoline! My two-hundred-a-year will rig me out suitably, and provide me with tobacco; and the dribblets coming to me from my old books--through the honest publishers I deserted for Mr. t.i.tterton!--the dribblets coming from my old books will enable me to present you with a nosegay on the anniversaries of our wedding-day, and--by the time your hair's white--to refund you the money t.i.tterton's had from you. And there--with a little fame unjustly won, which, thank G.o.d, 'll soon die!--there you have the sum of my possessions! [_Seizing her arms and twisting her round._] Oh, but I'll be your mate, my dear--your loyal companion and protector--comrade and lover----!

[_He is about to embrace her again, but she keeps him off by placing her hands against his breast._

OTTOLINE.

[_Steeling herself._] Phil----

PHILIP.

[_Unsuspectingly._] Eh?

OTTOLINE.

I arrived at a decision during the night too, Phil.

PHILIP.

Yes?

OTTOLINE.

Don't--don't loathe me. [_Shaking her head gravely._] I am not going to marry you.

PHILIP.

[_Staring at her._] You're not going to--marry me?

OTTOLINE.

No, Philip.

PHILIP.

[_After another pause._] You--you're overwrought, Otto; you've had no sleep. Neither of us has had any sleep----

OTTOLINE.

Oh, but I'm quite clearheaded----

PHILIP.

[_Bewildered._] Why, just now you said you'd forgiven me--repeated it----!

OTTOLINE.

I do repeat it. If I've anything to forgive, I forgive you a thousand times----

PHILIP.

And you allowed me to--to take you in my arms----