The bitterness of life. Are your hands warm yet? (_Takes her hands._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

Yes, I can go back now.

(_She goes back to the "throne." He poses her, and returns to the easel._)

Denham.

(_painting again_) Marriage must certainly be modified. A woman should have some honourable way of escape, when her husband gets tired of her.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_laughing_) How delicately you put it! But the wife? If you had to bear all you so chivalrously inflict on us in "honourable" marriage, I wonder how many marriages there would be?

Denham.

Instinct would be too strong for us still. But we should outscheme Nature. We should invent. What has a woman ever invented since the beginning of the world? Well, you can easily rail us out of marriage. How will you live then?

Mrs. Tremaine.

As we are trying to live now.

Denham.

I believe woman's great ambition is to do all the work of the world, and maintain man in idleness.

Mrs. Tremaine.

That would be awful! You would all be artists and minor poets then.

Denham.

You, I believe, prefer "the Free Union," as it is called, to marriage?

Mrs. Tremaine.

If it were practicable.

Denham.

Ah yes! We can't live innocently and comfortably in "open sin,"

until the kingdom of heaven comes.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_laughing_) No, I fear there are still difficulties. But, after all, one can do--well, almost anything; if one does it from conscientious motives--and knows one's way about.

Denham.

Yes. And how charming the relationship might be made! Women would really study the art of keeping a lover. But what, in Heaven's name, is the sympathetic modern man to do, who feels that to love one of these creatures of a finer clay, in his rough masculine fashion, is to "insult," or "enslave," or injure her, in one way or another? "I love you, therefore God forbid I should marry you!"--that is the newest gospel.

Mrs. Tremaine.

We are not all such miserable creatures as you imagine. Treat us decently well, and we can stand a good deal, without whining like men--poor persecuted saints!

Denham.

It is quite impossible to treat you well in this "imperfect dispensation." Bah! let us talk of something else.

(_Enter Mrs. Denham, dressed to go out._)

Mrs. Denham.

This letter has come for you, Blanche, sent on from your house.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Thanks so much. I have been expecting it. Will you excuse me?

(_Opens letter and reads._)

Mrs. Denham.

I am sorry to interrupt you, Arthur, but I am just going out. Can you give me a cheque?

Denham.

Certainly. But first look at this.

Mrs. Denham.

(_looks at the picture_) Better, I think.

Denham.

Eyes too big now?

Mrs. Denham.

No, not now. Let me have the cheque, and I will go.

(_Denham crosses in front of easel to table, takes cheque book from a drawer in the table, and writes. Mrs. Tremaine rises and crosses C._)

Denham.

Is that all you have to say?

Mrs. Denham.