VIVIE [wincing] Oh, stop, stop. Let us have no more of that horrible cant. Mr Praed: if there are really only those two gospels in the world, we had better all kill ourselves; for the same taint is in both, through and through.
FRANK [looking critically at her] There is a touch of poetry about you today, Viv, which has hitherto been lacking.
PRAED [remonstrating] My dear Frank: aren’t you a little unsympathetic?
VIVIE [merciless to herself] No: it’s good for me. It keeps me from being sentimental.
FRANK [bantering her] Checks your strong natural propensity that way, don’t it?
VIVIE [almost hysterically] Oh yes: go on: don’t spare me. I was sentimental for one moment in my life—beautifully sentimental—by moonlight; and now—
FRANK [quickly] I say, Viv: take care. Don’t give yourself away.
VIVIE. Oh, do you think Mr Praed does not know all about my mother? [Turning on Praed] You had better have told me that morning, Mr Praed. You are very old fashioned in your delicacies, after all.
PRAED. Surely it is you who are a little old fashioned in your prejudices, Miss Warren. I feel bound to tell you, speaking as an artist, and believing that the most intimate human relationships are far beyond and above the scope of the law, that though I know that your mother is an unmarried woman, I do not respect her the less on that account. I respect her more.
FRANK [airily] Hear! hear!