[_There is a short pause, and then he rises and moves a few steps away from her. With an impassive countenance, she fingers the buttons of her gloves._ PHILIP. [_Stroking the pattern of the carpet with his foot._] Otto---- OTTOLINE. [_Looking up._] Yes, Phil? PHILIP. I asked Robbie to tell you, if he had the opportunity, that I've decided to make my farewell salaam to authorship. I'm no good at it; I'm a frost; I realize it at last. I've had my final whack on the jaw; I've fought--how many rounds?--and now I take the count and slink out of the ring, beat. [_Producing his keys, he goes to the cabinet on the right, unlocks it, and selects from several cardboard portfolios one which he carries to the writing-table. While he is doing this,_ OTTOLINE_--still with an expressionless face--rises and moves to the left, where she stands watching him. He opens the portfolio and, with a pained look, handles the sheets of manuscript in it._] Ha! You and I have often talked over this, haven't we, Otto? OTTOLINE. [_Calmly._] Often. PHILIP. [_Taking the manuscript from the portfolio--thoughtfully._] It was to have been--oh, such an advance on my previous stuff--kindlier, less strenuous, more urbane! Success--success!--had sweetened the gall in me! [_Glancing at a partly covered page._] Here's where I broke off yesterday. [_With a shrug._] In every man's life there's a chapter uncompleted, in one form or another! [_Throwing the manuscript into the portfolio._] Pst! Get back to your hole; I'll burn you later on. [_He rejoins her. She half turns from him, averting her head._] So end my pitiful strivings and ambitions! [_Laying his hand on her shoulder._] Ah, it's a miserable match you're making, Ottoline! My two-hundred-a-year will rig me out suitably, and provide me with tobacco; and the dribblets coming to me from my old books--through the honest publishers I deserted for Mr. Titterton!--the dribblets coming from my old books will enable me to present you with a nosegay on the anniversaries of our wedding-day, and--by the time your hair's white--to refund you the money Titterton's had from you. And there--with a little fame unjustly won, which, thank God, 'll soon die!--there you have the sum of my possessions! [_Seizing her arms and twisting her round._] Oh, but I'll be your mate, my dear--your loyal companion and protector--comrade and lover----! [_He is about to embrace her again, but she keeps him off by placing her hands against his breast._ OTTOLINE. [_Steeling herself._] Phil---- PHILIP. [_Unsuspectingly._] Eh? OTTOLINE. I arrived at a decision during the night too, Phil. PHILIP. Yes?