LUCAS. [Hesitatingly.] They suggest—
AGNES. Yes, yes, I know. [Looking at him searchingly.] After all, your old career was—a success. You made your mark, as you were saying the other day. You did make your mark. [He walks up and down restlessly, abstractedly, her eyes following him.] You were generally spoken of, accepted, as a Coming Man. The Coming Man, often, wasn't it?
LUCAS. [With an impatient wave of the hand.] That doesn't matter!
AGNES. And now you are giving it up—giving it all up.
[He sits on the settee, resting his elbow on his knee, pushing his hand through his hair.]
LUCAS. But—but you believe I shall succeed equally well in this new career of mine?
AGNES. [Stonily.] There's the risk, you must remember.
LUCAS. Obviously, there's the risk. Why do you say all this to me now?
AGNES. Because now is the opportunity to—to go back.
LUCAS. [Scornfully.] Opportunity—?