MRS. JUNO. I think you ought to go [he makes an effort; and she adds quickly] but if you try I shall grab you round the neck and disgrace myself. I implore you to sit still and be nice.
GREGORY. I implore you to run away. I believe I can trust myself to let you go for your own sake. But it will break my heart.
MRS. JUNO. I don't want to break your heart. I can't bear to think of your sitting here alone. I can't bear to think of sitting alone myself somewhere else. It's so senseless—so ridiculous—when we might be so happy. I don't want to be wicked, or coarse. But I like you very much; and I do want to be affectionate and human.
GREGORY. I ought to draw a line.
MRS. JUNO. So you shall, dear. Tell me: do you really like me? I don't mean LOVE me: you might love the housemaid—
GREGORY [vehemently]. No!
MRS. JUNO. Oh, yes you might; and what does that matter, anyhow? Are you really fond of me? Are we friends—comrades? Would you be sorry if I died?
GREGORY [shrinking]. Oh, don't.
MRS. JUNO. Or was it the usual aimless man's lark: a mere shipboard flirtation?
GREGORY. Oh, no, no: nothing half so bad, so vulgar, so wrong. I assure you I only meant to be agreeable. It grew on me before I noticed it.