ANNE. I don’t know whether I ought to ask you. NICHOLAS. Of course you ought! ANNE. But you see, we _are_ friends—almost like brother and sister—— NICHOLAS (_disappointed_). Well, I shouldn’t put it quite like that—— ANNE. And I thought I might ask you—— NICHOLAS. Of course, Anne! You know I would do anything for you. ANNE. Yes.... Well—well—— (_In a rush_) Well, then, will you lend me one pound two and sixpence till next Monday? NICHOLAS. Lend you——! ANNE. To-day’s Friday, I’ll send you the money off on Sunday. I promise. Of course I know one oughtn’t to borrow from men, but you’re different. Almost like a brother. I knew you would understand. NICHOLAS. But—but—I _don’t_ understand. ANNE (_ashamed_). You see, I—I only have three and fourpence ha’penny. And it costs one pound five and twopence to get home. (_Indignantly_) Oh, it’s a shame the way men always pay for us, and then when we really want money we haven’t got any.... But I will pay you back on Sunday. I have some money at home; I meant to have brought it. NICHOLAS. But—but why do you suddenly—— ANNE. Suddenly? I’ve been wanting it ever since that first morning. I went upstairs to get my hat, meaning to walk straight out of the house—and then I looked in my purse and found—(_pathetically_) three and fourpence ha’penny. What was I to do? NICHOLAS. Any one would have lent you anything. ANNE (_coldly_). Leonard, for instance? NICHOLAS (_thoughtfully_). Well ... no.... No. You couldn’t very well have touched Leonard. But Latimer—— ANNE. Mr. Latimer! The man who had brought us here, locked us up here, and started playing Providence to us—I was to go on my knees to _him_ and say, “Please, dear Mr. Latimer, could you lend me one pound two and sixpence, so that I may run away from your horrid house?” Really! NICHOLAS. Well, you seem to have been pretty friendly with him these three days. ANNE. Naturally I am polite to a man when I am staying in his house. That’s different. NICHOLAS. As a matter of fact, Latimer has been jolly decent. Anyway, he has saved us both from making silly asses of ourselves. ANNE. And you think I am grateful to him for that?... Doesn’t _any_ man understand _any_ woman? NICHOLAS (_annoyed_). Are you suggesting that _I_ don’t understand women? ANNE. I’m suggesting that you should lend me one pound two shillings and sixpence. NICHOLAS (_sulkily, feeling in his pockets_). Of course, if you’re in such a confounded hurry to get away from here—— Do you mind all silver? ANNE. Not at all. NICHOLAS. In such a confounded hurry to get away from here—— (_He counts the money._) ANNE. Why ever should I want to stay? NICHOLAS. Well—well—— (_With a despairing shrug_) Oh, Lord!... Ten shillings ... fourteen and six ... why should she want to stay! Why do you think _I’m_ staying? ANNE (_wickedly_). Because you’re so fond of Mr. Latimer. He’s so jolly decent.