Grimly. Leaving you to bring an action against me, to recover damages for a broken heart. Drawing a deep breath. Yes, I’m chucking you, Lil. I give you formal notice of my intention; and you can drive down to your solicitors this afternoon and instruct them to writ me without delay. Forcing a laugh. Ha, ha, ha!
Lily.
Faintly. Nicko——!
Jeyes.
Unless—unless you’ve an idea of consoling yourself shortly with—with another chap, and prefer not to carry the matter into Court.
Lily.
About to rise. Nicko——!
Jeyes.
Restraining her by a gesture. H’sh! No, no, no. She sinks back. Ah, Lil—Lil—I know you’re full of generous, honest impulses, though I did tear you to rags in Farncombe’s hearing a few hours ago. But I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice yourself to them; I—I—I’ve come to my senses, and I’m not going to permit it. Bending forward. Oh, my dear, why should I make you pay for the weaknesses of my character? Because that’s what it ’ud amount to. I’ve bullied you for having played skittles with my life, my career. So you have! Damn it, so you have! But you’ve done it out of blind thoughtlessness; and if I’d been a fairly strong man, with some ballast in me, you couldn’t have landed me where I am—not you nor fifty Pandora girls! Sitting erect. And that—that’s the moral of the tale; and—and— abruptly, to Farncombe There’s nothing more, is there, Farncombe?
Farncombe.