WALTER. [_At the table, with his back to her._] I hate hearing you talk like this. BETTY. Silly boy! [_She rises, and goes to him; he has taken a cigarette out of the box on the table, and stands there, with his head bent, tapping the cigarette against his hand._] Women only talk "like this," as you call it, to their lovers. They talk "like that" to their husbands--and that's why the husbands never know. That's why the husbands are always sitting in the stalls, looking on. [_She puts her arms round him again._] Looking and not seeing. [_She approaches her lips to his--he almost fretfully unclasps her arms._ WALTER. Betty--I want to say a--serious word ... BETTY. [_Looking fondly at him._] Well, isn't what _I'm_ saying serious? WALTER. I'm thirty-eight. BETTY. Yes. I'm only thirty. But I'm not complaining. WALTER. Has it ever occurred to you-- [_He stops._ BETTY. What? [WALTER _looks at her--tries to speak, but cannot--then he breaks away, goes across the room to the fireplace and stands for a moment looking into the fire. She has remained where she was, her eyes following him wonderingly. Suddenly he stamps his foot violently._ WALTER. Damn it! DAMN it! BETTY. [_Moving towards him in alarm._] What's the matter? WALTER. [_With a swift turn towards her._] I'm going to get married. BETTY. [_Stonily, stopping by the round table._] You ... WALTER. [_Savagely._] Going to get married, yes. Married, married! [_She stands there and doesn't stir--doesn't speak or try to speak; merely stands there, and looks at him, giving no sign. Her silence irritates him; he becomes more and more violent, as though to give himself courage._ WALTER. You're wonderful, you women--you really are. Always contrive to make us seem brutes, or cowards! I've wanted to tell you this a dozen times--I've not had the pluck. Well, to-day I must. Must, do you hear that?... Oh, for Heaven's sake, say something. BETTY. [_Still staring helplessly at him._] You ... WALTER. [_Feverishly._] Yes, I, I! Now it's out, at least--it's spoken! I mean to get married, like other men--fooled, too, I dare say, like the others--at least I deserve it! But I'm tired, I tell you--tired-- BETTY. Of me? WALTER. Tired of the life I lead--the beastly, empty rooms--the meals at the Club. And I'm thirty-eight--it's now or never. BETTY. [_Slowly._] And how about--me? WALTER. You? BETTY. [_Passionately._] Yes. Me. Me! WALTER. You didn't think this would last for ever? BETTY. [_Nodding her head._] I did--yes--I did. Why shouldn't it? WALTER. [_Working himself into a fury again._] Why? You ask that? Why? Oh yes, it's all right for _you_--you've your home and your husband--I'm there as an--annexe. To be telephoned to, when I'm wanted, at your beck and call, throw over everything, come when you whistle. And it's not only that--I tell you it makes me feel--horrid. After all, he's my--friend.