THE MONSTER: But I haven’t got any cash on me at the moment. THE PROSTITUTE: Well, I won’t take a cheque. Once bitten, twice shy, I can tell you. THE MONSTER: But I tell you I haven’t got any cash. THE PROSTITUTE: Well, all I can say is, here I stay till I get it. And, what’s more, if I don’t get it quick, I’ll make a row. THE MONSTER: But this is absurd. I offer you a perfectly good cheque.... THE PROSTITUTE: And I won’t take it. So there! THE MONSTER: Well then, take my watch. It’s worth more than thirty bob. (_He pulls out his gold half-hunter._) THE PROSTITUTE: Thank you, and get myself arrested as soon as I take it to the pop-shop! No, I want cash, I tell you. THE MONSTER: But where the devil do you expect me to get it at this time of night? THE PROSTITUTE: I don’t know. But you’ve got to get it pretty quick. THE MONSTER: You’re unreasonable. THE PROSTITUTE: Aren’t there any servants in this house? THE MONSTER: Yes. THE PROSTITUTE: Well, go and borrow it from one of them. THE MONSTER: But really, that would be too low, too humiliating. THE PROSTITUTE: All right, I’ll begin kicking up a noise. I’ll go to the window and yell till all the neighbours are woken up and the police come to see what’s up. You can borrow it from the copper then. THE MONSTER: You really won’t take my cheque? I swear to you it’s perfectly all right. There’s plenty of money to meet it. THE PROSTITUTE: Oh, shut up! No more dilly-dallying. Get me my money at once, or I’ll start the row. One, two, three.... (_She opens her mouth wide as if to yell._) THE MONSTER: All right. (_He goes out._) THE PROSTITUTE: Nice state of things we’re coming to, when young rips try and swindle us poor girls out of our money! Mean, stinking skunks! I’d like to slit the throats of some of them. THE MONSTER (_coming back again_): Here you are. (_He hands her money._) THE PROSTITUTE (_examining it_): Thank you, dearie. Any other time you’re lonely.... THE MONSTER: No, no! THE PROSTITUTE: Where did you get it finally? THE MONSTER: I woke the cook. THE PROSTITUTE (_goes off into a peal of laughter_): Well, so long, duckie. (_She goes out._) THE MONSTER (_solus_): Somewhere there must be love like music. Love harmonious and ordered: two spirits, two bodies moving contrapuntally together. Somewhere, the stupid brutish act must be made to make sense, must be enriched, must be made significant. Lust, like Diabelli’s waltz, a stupid air, turned by a genius into three-and-thirty fabulous variations. Somewhere.... “Oh dear!” sighed Mrs. Viveash. “Charming!” Gumbril protested. ... love like sheets of silky flame; like landscapes brilliant in the sunlight against a background of purple thunder; like the solution of a cosmic problem; like faith....