ANN: I’m sorry, darling. You _do_ hate me to be what you call fanciful, don’t you? PHILIP: Yes. ANN: I’ll be just what you like. So good and sober and matter-of-fact if you’ll only smile. PHILIP: One can’t always smile. ANN: I can never help it when I’m with you. Smiles seem to flutter about my lips like butterflies. But sometimes I can’t help thinking—in an hour he’ll be gone, in ten minutes he’ll be gone. And then when people come into the room, I try to shut them out of my consciousness and imagine I am in your arms. Do you never do that? PHILIP: No. ANN: First I feel one arm around me, then the other.... I think of each finger of your hand and the features of your face getting closer and closer till they merge into my face, and your lips creeping about covering every bit of me with kisses—my neck, my eyes, my lips. And then I look up dazed and radiant and see some old man talking to me about the Tariff. Do you never do that? PHILIP: No. ANN: You are dreadfully wanting me to be sensible, aren’t you? PHILIP: Yes. [_There is a pause._ ANN (_nervously_): Do Uncle Bill and Mr. Molyneux get on your nerves? PHILIP: No. ANN: They have hearts of gold, really. PHILIP: Your universe is entirely populated by saints, and sinners who sin in order to become still greater saints. [_There is a pause._ ANN: Were you in your constituency yesterday? PHILIP: Yes. ANN: Did you make a speech? Was it a good meeting? PHILIP: Fairly. [_There is another pause. ANN is crying silently._ PHILIP: What the devil is the matter now? ANN: I don’t understand. PHILIP: So you have already observed. ANN: It’s dreadful. Why, we can’t even talk any more. PHILIP: That does indeed put me in a unique position. Someone a Cathcart can’t talk to. ANN: I can’t bear it. What have I done? Don’t you love me any more? Don’t I even amuse you? PHILIP: I don’t know. ANN: You see, I haven’t ever loved anyone before. I suppose I am clumsy—I can’t play it as a game, giving little bits of myself to make you want more. I don’t know how to. PHILIP: An end was bound to come sooner or later, wasn’t it? ANN: But I don’t see. How can there be an end? I belong to you—all of me—always. Philip, my beloved, my lover. PHILIP (_bitterly_): How surprised they would be. ANN: Philip, you are teasing me, aren’t you? You’re testing me? You want to see how much I care. It will always be so easy for you to hurt me, dear heart—too easy to be amusing. [_PHILIP is sitting on the sofa beside her and she is stroking his face._ ANN: But then, there is nothing difficult left, is there? Because it is just as easy—terribly easy—to make me happy. PHILIP: Ann, haven’t you ever thought that love affairs don’t last for ever? ANN: I have never thought of love affairs; I have only thought of love—which means you—and you, which means life. PHILIP: You haven’t learnt much from your uncle and aunt, have you?