GRACE (puzzled). Of course you have; but-- CHARTERIS (interrupting her triumphantly). Then how can you steal me from Julia if I don't belong to her? (Catching her by the shoulders and holding her out at arm's length in front of him.) Eh, little philosopher? No, my dear: if Ibsen sauce is good for the goose, it's good for the gander as well. Besides (coaxing her) it was nothing but a philander with Julia--nothing else in the world, I assure you. GRACE (breaking away from him). So much the worse! I hate your philanderings: they make me ashamed of you and of myself. (Goes to the sofa and sits in the right hand corner of it, leaning gloomily on her elbow with her face averted.) CHARTERIS. Grace: you utterly misunderstand the origin of my philanderings. (Sits down beside her.) Listen to me: am I a particularly handsome man? GRACE (turning to him as if astonished at his conceit). No! CHARTERIS (triumphantly). You admit it. Am I a well dressed man? GRACE. Not particularly. CHARTERIS. Of course not. Have I a romantic mysterious charm about me?--do I look as if a secret sorrow preyed on me?--am I gallant to women? GRACE. Not in the least. CHARTERIS. Certainly not. No one can accuse me of it. Then whose fault is it that half the women I speak to fall in love with me? Not mine: I hate it: it bores me to distraction. At first it flattered me--delighted me--that was how Julia got me, because she was the first woman who had the pluck to make me a declaration. But I soon had enough of it; and at no time have I taken the initiative and persecuted women with my advances as women have persecuted me. Never. Except, of course, in your case. GRACE. Oh, you need not make any exception. I had a good deal of trouble to induce you to come and see us. You were very coy. CHARTERIS (fondly, taking her hand). With you, dearest, the coyness was sheer coquetry. I loved you from the first, and fled only that you might pursue. But come! let us talk about something really interesting. (Takes her in his arms.) Do you love me better than anyone else in the world? GRACE. I don't think you like to be loved too much. CHARTERIS. That depends on who the person is. You (pressing her to his heart) cannot love me too much: you cannot love me half enough. I reproach you every day for your coldness--your-- (Violent double knock heard without. They start and listen, still in one another's arms, hardly daring to breathe.) Who the deuce is calling at this hour? GRACE. I can't imagine. (They listen guiltily. The door of the flat is opened without. They hastily get away from one another.) A WOMAN'S VOICE OUTSIDE. Is Mr. Charteris here? CHARTERIS (springing up). Julia! The devil! (Stands at the left of the sofa with his hands on it, bending forward with his eyes fixed on the door.) GRACE (rising also). What can she want?