OTTOLINE.

You shall take me in your arms again, Phil, once more, before we part, if you wish to. I'm not a girl, though you call me one----

PHILIP.

[_Sternly._] Look here! You don't imagine for an instant that I shall accept this! You----!

OTTOLINE.

Ssh! Try not to be hasty; try to be reasonable. Listen to me----

PHILIP.

You--you mean me to understand that, in consequence of this wretched t.i.tterton affair, you've changed your mind, and intend to chuck me!

OTTOLINE.

Yes, I mean you to understand that.

PHILIP.

[_Turning from her indignantly._] Oh----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Sitting in the chair by the smoking-table._] Philip--Philip--[_He hesitates, then seats himself on the settee opposite to her. She speaks with great firmness and deliberation._] Philip, while you were lying awake last night, or walking about your room, didn't you--_think_?

PHILIP.

[_Hotly._] _Think----!_

OTTOLINE.

No, no--soberly, steadily, searchingly. Evidently not, _cher ami_!

[_Bending forward._] Phil, after what has happened, can't you see me as I really _am_?

PHILIP.

As you--are?

OTTOLINE.

An incurably vulgar woman. An incurably common, vulgar woman. n.o.body but a woman whose vulgarity is past praying for could have conceived such a scheme as I planned and carried out with that man Clifford t.i.tterton--n.o.body. This--how shall I term it?--this refinement of mine is merely on the surface. We women are like the--what's the name of the little reptile?--the chameleon, isn't it? We catch the colour of our surroundings. But what we were, we continue to be--in the grain. The vulgar-minded Ottoline Filson, who captivated, and disgusted, you in Paris is before you at this moment. The only difference is that then she was a natural person, and now she plays _les grands roles_. [_Sitting upright and pressing her temples._] Oh, I have fooled myself as well as you, Phil--deluded myself----!

PHILIP.

You're dog-tired, Otto. Your brain's in a fever. All you've done, you've done from your love for me, my dear--your deep, pa.s.sionate love----

OTTOLINE.

[_Wincing._] Pa.s.sionate love--_parfaitement_! [_Looking at him._] But that feeling's over, Phil.

PHILIP.

Over?

OTTOLINE.

[_Simply._] I shall always _love_ you--always--always; but my pa.s.sion exhausted itself last night. For months it has borne me along on a wave. It was that that swept me to the door of t.i.tterton's office in Charles Street, Adelphi; it was strong enough to drive me to any length. But last night, in those dreadful small hours, the wave beat itself out, and threw me up on to the rocks, and left me shivering--naked--ashamed--[_drawing a deep breath_] ah, but in my right senses!

[_She unb.u.t.tons her left-hand glove, rolls the hand of the glove over her wrist, and takes her engagement-ring from her finger._

PHILIP.

[_Aghast._] Otto! Otto! What are you doing! What are you doing! [_She lays the ring carefully upon the smoking-table and rises and walks away. He rises with her, following her._] To-morrow--when you've had some sleep--to-morrow----

OTTOLINE.

Never. Don't deceive yourself, Philip. [_Going to the fireplace._] If anything was needed to strengthen my resolution, the announcement you've just made would supply it.

PHILIP.

[_On the left._] Announcement?

OTTOLINE.

With regard to your literary work. [_Turning to him._] _Ne voyez-vous pas!_ I have begun to degrade you already!

PHILIP.

[_Consciously._] Degrade me?

OTTOLINE.

Degrade you. If I hadn't come into your life again, you would have accepted your reverse--your failure to gain popularity by your latest book--as you've accepted similar disappointments--with a shrug and a confident snap of your fingers. [_Advancing._] But I've humbled you--bruised your spirit--shaken your courage; and now you express your willingness--_you!_--to throw your pen aside, and tack yourself to my skirts, and to figure meekly for the rest of your existence as "Mrs.

Mackworth's husband"! [_At the nearer end of the writing-table._] _Mon Dieu!_ This is what I have brought you to!

PHILIP.

[_Biting his lip._] You--you wouldn't have me profit by the advertis.e.m.e.nt I've got out of "The Big Drum," Ottoline--[_ironically_]

the finest advertis.e.m.e.nt I could wish for, according to Robbie! You wouldn't have me sink as low as that?

OTTOLINE.

You can write under an alias--a _nom de plume_--until you've won your proper place----

PHILIP.