Peter. I think I always loved you, Margaret. Throughout the madness of my pride, behind it all, I think I never quite forgot the great reality of you. I've been ambition's drunkard, but behind the mist of self-deluded dream, the light shone dimly though. London brought me no peace. Mar. I'll bring you peace. Peter. I think you will. (_From her._) Oh, but it's madness, madness, Margaret. What are we thinking of? Mar. Our happiness. Peter. Yes, for a moment we've been happy fools. Now I'm awake. Mar. And so? Peter. And so good-bye. Mar. Indeed? Peter. Oh, would to God, it needn't be. But here I am, an outcast, and---- Mar. (_quickly_). No phrases, Peter. Peter. I'm a man without a job, Margaret. I can't keep myself, let alone anyone else. Mar. Have you tried? Peter. I've thought of ways. Scraps of journalism, perhaps. I might live that way for a time. I'm a notorious person. They'll take my stuff until--my--my escapade's forgotten. Then they'll drop me. Mar. Excellent reasons for not being a journalist. Peter. I'm fit for nothing else. I thought I had supporters, friends who'd rally round when the official party sent me to the rightabout. I've waited there a week. I have no friends. Mar. You don't need friends. You want an employer, and I thought you were a skilled mechanic. Peter. Yes. As a matter of fact I did have a vague idea of going in for aeroplanes. Mar. Oh, Peter, Peter, still the high flights! Peter (_earnestly_). There's money in it, Margaret. Mar. For the mechanic? Peter. I shouldn't be a mechanic long. A man of original mind like me is bound to be ahead of the crowd. I've to keep moving fast. I can't wait for the mob to catch me up. Yes, there's something in that aeroplane idea. Mar. There is. Fame. Applause. Incense. Everything that ruined you before. Peter. You can't be famous without risk. Mar. Why be famous? Peter. That's your doing. You wakened my ambitions. They're there now, ineradically fixed, and if they weren't there for myself, they would be there for you. Mar. For me? I don't want them, Peter. Fight them down. Be humble. Peter. I'm not built for humility. Mar. Drop your ambition, Peter. You will feel like Christian when he lost his pack. Peter. What do you want me to do? Mar. There is always room for you at your old place. Peter. Back to the mechanic's bench. In Midlandton, where everybody knows! That's humble pie with a vengeance. Mar. A new beginning, Peter. Peter. There's no such thing. In life, we pay. Mar. We'll pay together then. Peter. I can't go back. Mar. A man can do things for his woman, Peter, when he can't do them for himself. Peter. You want me to go back? Mar. Yes, Peter, back to the starting-place. Peter. It's a bitter pill. Mar. But won't you swallow it--for me? For my sake, Peter. Peter. Yes, Margaret, you've won. I'll go back if they'll have me. Mar. Thank you, Peter. Peter. Don't thank me, dear. It's----