Facing him and speaking quietly but firmly. Recollect, however shrewd and apt I may be, and however straight I’ve managed to keep myself, still—I’m only a Pandora girl, and should always be remembered as one by your chums and belongings. Only a Pandora girl. Nothing can alter that, dear boy; and you mustn’t—you mustn’t handicap yourself by hanging me round your neck.
Farncombe.
Heavily. I—I shouldn’t be the first of my sort to marry a “Pandora girl,” not by half a dozen or more.
Lily.
No, but—without wishing to flatter you—I don’t quite put you on a level with Robbie Kinterton, and Glenroy, and Georgie Fawcus, and—that crew. Cheerfully. And so I mean to take care of you—to take care of you for your own sake and for your mammy’s and daddy’s. She turns from him and fetches his hat and coat and gives them to him. He receives them from her with a dazed look. Time’s up. After a silence during which neither stirs. Never mind. You’ll survive it. Another pause. Come along.
She passes him, to go to the door on the left. As she does so he flings his hat and coat on to the settee, and clasps her in his arms.
Farncombe.
Lily—Lily——!
Lily.
Ah, that’s not fair!