Sydney comes down another step.
Gray. Why, you’re to do as you choose. I shan’t force you. I’m not your turn-key. I’m not your beggar. We’re free people, you and I. It’s for you to say if you’ll keep your—conscience, do you call it?—and lose—
Margaret. I’ve lost what I love. There’s no more to lose.
Gray. You sing as sweetly as a toy nightingale. Almost I’d think you were real.
Margaret. [Wounded] I don’t know what you mean.
Gray. “What you love!” You don’t know the meaning of the notes you use.
Margaret. [Very white, but her voice is steady] Don’t deceive yourself. I love you. I ache and faint for you. I starve—
Sydney. [Appalled, whispering] What is it? I don’t know her.
Margaret. I’m withering without you like cut grass in the sun. I love you. I love you. Can’t you see how it is with me? But—
Gray. There’s no “but” in love.