JOHN: Then we attacked ... it was funny; I remember feeling very proud of myself--and I didn’t get knocked out. Afterwards I thought a great deal about that first little French girl, and about Frankie; and one night I realised I loved Frankie desperately, because I wanted her like that; and because of Frankie I kept clear of any more of it.... I just lived for my next leave, and the moment when I should see Frankie again ... and the first time we were alone again--it was in this room--I was standing over there and she came in, and came towards me and I went to meet her, and I put my arms round her and held her close--closer than I’d ever done before. My God, I loved her that moment.... COLIN: Yes? JOHN: She pushed me away. She hardly said anything; but she made me feel that she was a little angry and a little indignant--I’ve never felt such a fool in my life ... before I went back to the front that leave, I’d met Toby. COLIN: I remember. You still see her? JOHN: Sometimes. She’s coming here to-night. COLIN: Here! JOHN: Upstairs. It’s like my own flat, you know. COLIN: Yes--but.... JOHN: I know. But I was certain they were all going out to dinner. And she’s always wanted to see the attic; and they haven’t gone out; and now Frankie’s turned up! COLIN: Frankie! JOHN: Yes; she’s in the drawing-room; I’m worried. COLIN: I’m not surprised. JOHN: I’m desperately anxious to get Toby up there without her meeting anybody. It’s an underhand business; it’s got to stop. (_He is troubled._) They’ve never been so close; in any sort of way.... Colin, I don’t make love to Frankie; not at all; she doesn’t seem to want it. COLIN: Are you sure? JOHN: Yes, I think so; that’s the trouble. I never get any _response_ from her. It makes me rather uncomfortable with her, and shy! She doesn’t seem to miss anything ... but, unless, in my marriage, that part of it is as perfect, and as beautiful as ... as Toby has taught me it can be, my marriage will be a failure. I’m getting afraid it isn’t in Frankie. COLIN: It may be. You never can tell. JOHN: And it may not be ... a mistaken marriage messes up two lives at least. COLIN: But they’re not uncommon. JOHN: It’s silly, isn’t it? COLIN: But there it is. JOHN: Do you know what I believe I _ought_ to do? COLIN: What? JOHN: Go to Frankie and either break off our engagement, or else ask her to come away with me somewhere.... I’m perfectly serious; you may say “There it is ... it’s the way Civilisation has always managed it.” Civilisation made millions of young people kill and maim and torture one another for five bloody years--there’s something wrong with Civilisation. I don’t mean that because a thing was there before the war it _must_ be wrong--but it _may_ be ... a good many things have got to be thought out again from the beginning--this business of marriage is one of them. COLIN: Have you said anything about it to her? JOHN: No. COLIN: Why don’t you? [_GWEN comes quickly into the room._