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 advertisement I've got out of "The Big Drum," Ottoline—[ironically] the finest advertisement I could wish for, according to Robbie! You wouldn't have me sink as low as that?