STRANGER (scornfully). You and me look like friends, don't we?
LADY PEMBURY (smiling). Well, we do, rather.
(He gets up hastily and moves further away from her.)
STRANGER. I know what your game is. Don't think I don't see it.
LADY PEMBURY. What is it?
STRANGER. Falling on your knees, and saying with tears in your eyes: "Oh, kind friend, spare me poor husband!" I know the sort of thing. And trying to work me up friendly before you begin.
LADY PEMBURY (shaking her head). No, if I went on my knees to you, I shouldn't say that. How can you hurt my husband now?
STRANGER. Well, I don't suppose the scandal will do him much good. Not an important Member of Parliament like him.
LADY PEMBURY. Ah, but it isn't the outside things that really hurt you, the things which are done to you, but the things which you do to yourself. And so if I went on my knees to you, it would not be for my husband's sake. For I should go on my knees, and I should say: "Oh, my son that might have been, think before you give up everything that a man should have. Ambition, hope, pride, self-respect—are not these worth keeping? Is your life to end now? Have you done all that you came into the world to do, so that now you can look back and say, 'It is finished; I have given all that I had to give; henceforward I will spend'?" (Very gently) Oh, my son that might have been!
STRANGER (very uncomfortable). Here, I say, that isn't fair.