ANABEL. And where has it landed us? GERALD. Here. ANABEL. And where is that? GERALD. Just on this bench in the park, looking at the evening. ANABEL. But what next? GERALD. God knows! Why trouble? ANABEL. One must trouble. I want to feel sure. GERALD. What of? ANABEL. Of you--and of myself. GERALD. Then BE sure. ANABEL. But I can't. Think of the past--what it's been. GERALD. This isn't the past. ANABEL. But what is it? Is there anything sure in it? Is there any real happiness? GERALD. Why not? ANABEL. But how can you ask? Think of what our life has been. GERALD. I don't want to. ANABEL. No, you don't. But what DO you want? GERALD. I'm all right, you know, sitting here like this. ANABEL. But one can't sit here forever, can one? GERALD. I don't want to. ANABEL. And what will you do when we leave here? GERALD. God knows! Don't worry me. Be still a bit. ANABEL. But I'M worried. You don't love me. GERALD. I won't argue it. ANABEL. And I'm not happy. GERALD. Why not, Anabel? ANABEL. Because you don't love me--and I can't forget. GERALD. I do love you--and to-night I've forgotten. ANABEL. Then make me forget, too. Make me happy. GERALD. I CAN'T make you--and you know it. ANABEL. Yes, you can. It's your business to make me happy. I've made you happy. GERALD. You want to make me unhappy. ANABEL. I DO think you're the last word in selfishness. If I say I can't forget, you merely say, "I'VE forgotten"; and if I say I'm unhappy, all YOU can answer is that I want to make YOU unhappy. I don't in the least. I want to be happy myself. But you don't help me. GERALD. There is no help for it, you see. If you WERE happy with me here you'd be happy. As you aren't, nothing will make you--not genuinely. ANABEL. And that's all you care. GERALD. No--I wish we could both be happy at the same moment. But apparently we can't. ANABEL. And why not?--Because you're selfish, and think of nothing but yourself and your own feelings. GERALD. If it is so, it is so. ANABEL. Then we shall never be happy. GERALD. Then we sha'n't. (A pause.) ANABEL. Then what are we going to do? GERALD. Do? ANABEL. Do you want me to be with you? GERALD. Yes. ANABEL. Are you sure? GERALD. Yes. ANABEL. Then why don't you want me to be happy? GERALD. If you'd only BE happy, here and now--- ANABEL. How can I? GERALD. How can't you?--You've got a devil inside you. ANABEL. Then make me not have a devil. GERALD. I've know you long enough--and known myself long enough--to know I can make you nothing at all, Anabel: neither can you make me. If the happiness isn't there--well, we shall have to wait for it, like a dispensation. It probably means we shall have to hate each other a little more.--I suppose hate is a real process. ANABEL. Yes, I know you believe more in hate than in love. GERALD. Nobody is more weary of hate than I am--and yet we can't fix our own hour, when we shall leave off hating and fighting. It has to work itself out in us.