MISS L. I know. And it's not fair. Men suffer as well as we by the woman's starting wrong. We are taught to think the man a sort of demigod. If he tells her: "go down into Hell"--down into Hell she goes. STONOR. Make no mistake. Not the woman alone. _They go down together._ MISS L. Yes, they go down together, but the man comes up alone. As a rule. It is more convenient so--for him. And for the Other Woman. (_The eyes of both go to_ JEAN'S _door._) STONOR (_angrily_). My conscience is clear. I know--and so do you--that most men in my position wouldn't have troubled themselves. I gave myself endless trouble. MISS L. (_with wondering eyes_). So you've gone about all these years feeling that you'd discharged every obligation. STONOR. Not only that. I stood by you with a fidelity that was nothing short of Quixotic. If, woman like, you _must_ recall the Past--I insist on your recalling it correctly. MISS L. (_very low_). You think I don't recall it correctly? STONOR. Not when you make--other people believe that I deserted you. (_With gathering wrath._) It's a curious enough charge when you stop to consider---- (_Checks himself, and with a gesture of impatience sweeps the whole thing out of his way._) MISS L. Well, when we _do_--just for five minutes out of ten years--when we do stop to consider---- STONOR. We remember it was _you_ who did the deserting! Since you had to rake the story up, you might have had the fairness to tell the facts. MISS L. You think "the facts" would have excused you! (_She sits._) STONOR. No doubt you've forgotten them, since Lady John tells me you wouldn't remember my existence once a year if the newspapers didn't---- MISS L. Ah, you minded that! STONOR (_with manly spirit_). I minded your giving false impressions. (_She is about to speak, he advances on her._) Do you deny that you returned my letters unopened? MISS L. (_quietly_). No. STONOR. Do you deny that you refused to see me--and that, when I persisted, you vanished? MISS L. I don't deny any of those things. STONOR. Why, I had no trace of you for years! MISS L. I suppose not. STONOR. Very well, then. What _could_ I do? MISS L. Nothing. It was too late to do anything. STONOR. It wasn't too late! You knew--since you "read the papers"--that my father died that same year. There was no longer any barrier between us. MISS L. Oh yes, there was a barrier. STONOR. Of your own making, then. MISS L. I had my guilty share in it--but the barrier (_her voice trembles_)--the barrier was your invention. STONOR. It was no "invention." If you had ever known my father---- MISS L. Oh, the echoes! The echoes! How often you used to say, if I "knew your father!" But you said, too (_lower_)--you called the greatest barrier by another name. STONOR. What name? MISS L. (_very low_). The child that was to come. STONOR (_hastily_). That was before my father died. While I still hoped to get his consent.