why do you laugh? . . . ‘Because I’ve put it so well’? What do you mean? Put what so well? . . . ‘Your case’? It isn’t your case. It’s mine. I don’t understand. I said I’ld go back to Richard, and so I will. For all the wrong I’ve done him, he’ll still be kind. He’ld never jeer at a woman because she cried. And he never struck a woman in all his life. . . . ‘Can’t go back’? Why? What do you mean? . . . ‘I’ve told you myself—just now’? ‘_Told_ you’? I don’t understand. How have I told you I can’t go back to Richard? . . . _My God!_ You wouldn’t! You couldn’t do such a thing. Only a fiend . . . You know I shouldn’t have told you; but you—you pressed me so hard. And that was between you and me. You can’t use an indiscretion to force my hand. You can say you’ll tell people this or tell people that, but you can’t give away a secret that wasn’t mine to tell. . . . ‘Can’? Well, ‘won’t,’ then. You won’t do a thing like that! Think what it means to Richard and means to me. Think . . . You _will_ . . . if—I—go—back? You—_will_? Give Richard away . . . and ‘The Office’ . . . tear up my shred of honour . . . blacken me in Richard’s eyes . . . ? _Oh—my—God_ . . . All right. . . . Yes, I’m beaten. . . . I—I give you best. . . . You’ve won. You’ve won again. . . . I see, I understand. I see that I—I can’t go back. . . . Yes, I see why you laughed. . . . Yes, I suppose it was. . . . I do indeed, Berwick. I do, I do. . . . It was peculiarly humorous—my failure to perceive that I was stating your case. . . . No, don’t make me say that. . . . I’ld—I’ld rather not. It sounds so hideous, so—— Oh, don’t, Berwick! You’re hurting! _A-ah!_ All right. Let me go. I’ll say it. ‘Damning my chance of withdrawal out of my own pretty mouth.’ . . . Yes, I do see. I’ve said so. I see that I—can’t—go—back. . . .” One more extract I’ll give. “I’m very sorry, Berwick. I think it’s a little cold. . . . No, I promise I won’t. You shan’t know there’s anything wrong. I think if I wear my fur. . . . All right. I won’t wear it. I don’t mind a bit—really. . . . You know I won’t let you down. I shall be all right to-mor—to-night. I’m very strong. . . . Oh, I just felt shivery. . . . No, I promise I won’t. . . . I know you hate anything sick. I know you do. I didn’t think when I shivered. I won’t again. . . . I know, but I won’t to-night. I didn’t know you heard me. . . . ‘Why’? Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t sleep very well, and I suppose I felt like crying. Women do—sometimes. But I won’t cry to-night. . . . I’m very sorry, Berwick. I promise I won’t to-night. . . .” And again one more.