_Ashley_, with palpable insincerity: "I should like to ask why you don't respect yourself?" _Miss Ramsey_: "Was that what you were going to ask? I know it wasn't. But I will tell you. Because I have been a fool." _Ashley_: "Thank you. Now I will tell you what I was really going to ask. Why did you wish to drive me back to Miss Fray when you knew that I would be false to her a thousand times if I could only once be true to you?" _Miss Ramsey_: "Now you _are_ insulting me! And that is just the point. You may be a very clever lawyer, Mr. Ashley, and everybody says you are--very able, and talented, and all that, but you can't get round that point. You may torture any meaning you please out of my words, but I shall always say you brought it on yourself." _Ashley_: "Brought what on?" _Miss Ramsey_: "Mr. Ashley! I won't be cross-questioned." _Ashley_: "Was that why you smoked, and poured cocktails out of an unopened bottle? Was it because you wished me to hate you, and remember my duty, and go back to Miss Fray? Well, it was a dead failure. It made me love you more than ever. I am a fool too, as you call it." _Miss Ramsey_: "Say anything you please. I have given you the right. I shall not resent it. Go on." _Ashley_: "I should only repeat myself. You must have known how much I care for you, Isobel. Do you mind my calling you Isobel?" _Miss Ramsey_: "Not in the least if you wish to humiliate me by it. I should like you to trample on me in every way you can." _Ashley_: "Trample on you? I would rather be run over by a steam-roller than tread on the least of your outlying feelings, dearest. Do you mind my saying dearest?" _Miss Ramsey_: "I have told you that you can say anything you like. I deserve it. But oh, if you have a spark of pity--" _Ashley_: "I'm a perfect conflagration of compassion, darling. Do you object to darling?" _Miss Ramsey_, with starting tears: "It doesn't matter now." She has let her lovely length trail into the corner of the sofa, where she desperately reclines, supporting her elbow on the arm of it, and resting her drooping head on her hand. He draws a hassock up in front of her, and sits on it. _Ashley_: "This represents kneeling at your feet. One doesn't do it literally any more, you know." _Miss Ramsey_, in a hollow voice: "I should despise you if you did, and"--deeply murmurous--"I don't _wish_ to despise you." _Ashley_: "No, I understand that. You merely wish _me_ to despise _you_. But why?" _Miss Ramsey_, nervously: "You know." _Ashley_: "But I don't know--Isobel, dearest, darling, if you will allow me to express myself so fully. _How_ should I know?" _Miss Ramsey_: "I've told you." _Ashley_: "May I take your hand? For good-by!" He possesses himself of it. "It seems to go along with those expressions." _Miss Ramsey_, self-contemptuously: "Oh yes." _Ashley_: "Thank you. Where were we?" _Miss Ramsey_, sitting up and recovering her hand: "You were saying good-by--"