Philip.
[Stroking the pattern of the carpet with his foot.] Otto——
Ottoline.
[Looking up.] Yes, Phil?
Philip.
I asked Robbie to tell you, if he had the opportunity, that I've decided to make my farewell salaam to authorship. I'm no good at it; I'm a frost; I realize it at last. I've had my final whack on the jaw; I've fought—how many rounds?—and now I take the count and slink out of the ring, beat. [Producing his keys, he goes to the cabinet on the right, unlocks it, and selects from several cardboard portfolios one which he carries to the writing-table. While he is doing this, Ottoline—still with an expressionless face—rises and moves to the left, where she stands watching him. He opens the portfolio and, with a pained look, handles the sheets of manuscript in it.] Ha! You and I have often talked over this, haven't we, Otto?
Ottoline.
[Calmly.] Often.
Philip.
[Taking the manuscript from the portfolio—thoughtfully.] It was to have been—oh, such an advance on my previous stuff—kindlier, less strenuous, more urbane! Success—success!—had sweetened the gall in me! [Glancing at a partly covered page.] Here's where I broke off yesterday. [With a shrug.] In every man's life there's a chapter uncompleted, in one form or another! [Throwing the manuscript into the portfolio.] Pst! Get back to your hole; I'll burn you later on. [He rejoins her. She half turns from him, averting her head.] So end my pitiful strivings and ambitions! [Laying his hand on her shoulder.] Ah, it's a miserable match you're making, Ottoline! My two-hundred-a-year will rig me out suitably, and provide me with tobacco; and the dribblets coming to me from my old books—through the honest publishers I deserted for Mr. Titterton!—the dribblets coming from my old books will enable me to present you with a nosegay on the anniversaries of our wedding-day, and—by the time your hair's white—to refund you the money Titterton's had from you. And there—with a little fame unjustly won, which, thank God, 'll soon die!—there you have the sum of my possessions! [Seizing her arms and twisting her round.] Oh, but I'll be your mate, my dear—your loyal companion and protector—comrade and lover——!