Olive.
Any jealous woman will tell you what a slave she is to her paroxysms. Oh, they are dreadful, while they last! [Agitatedly.] The flame behind one’s eyes, the buzzing in the ears, the dry tongue, the thumping of the heart——! [Calming herself, breathlessly.] Thank God, I’m cured!
John.
You’ve said something like this to me on other occasions.
Olive.
Never, under such extraordinary circumstances. [Going to him.] The fact that I can drag myself to you, in this spirit, after my defeat, for the sake of a few words with you, must show you what an altered woman I am. [Sitting.] John, I felt I couldn’t go back to that lonely flat of mine to-night without first proving to you how thorough my remorse is. [Looking round.] That dismal flat! [In an altered tone.] You appear to be extremely comfortable here.
John.
Oh, it’s a little place—very cramped——
Olive.
This is where you gave me and papa tea once, when we were engaged to be married.