Hilary. I’m going to stay with him till I can look round. He’s going to make it right with that place.
Margaret. I’m glad you’ve got a good friend, Hilary.
Hilary. Yes, he’s a good chap. He’s talked to me. He’s made me see. [He comes a little closer.] He says—and I do see—It’s too late, of course— [his look at her is a petition, but she makes no sign] isn’t it? [He comes nearer.] Yes—it’s too late. It wouldn’t be fair—to ask you— [again the look] would it?
Margaret. [Imploringly] Oh, Hilary, Hilary!
Hilary. [Encouraged to come closer] No woman could be expected—you couldn’t be expected— [she makes no sign] could you? [Repeating his lesson] It’s what he says—you’ve made a new life for yourself— [he waits] haven’t you? There’s no room in it—for me—is there? [He is close to her. She does not move.] So it’s just a case of—saying good-bye and going, because—because—I quite see—there’s no chance— [Suddenly he throws himself down beside her, catching at her hands, clinging to her knees] Oh! Meg, Meg, Meg! isn’t there just a chance?
Margaret. [Faintly] Hilary, I can’t stand it.
Hilary. [And from now to the end of the scene he is at full pelt, tumbling over his words, frantic] Yes, but listen to me! Listen to me! You don’t listen. Listen to me! I’ve been alone so long—
Margaret. Gray! Gray! Why don’t you come?
Hilary. I’ll not trouble you. I’ll not get in your way—but—don’t leave me all alone. Give me something—the rustle of your dress, the cushion where you’ve lain—your voice about the house. You can’t deny me such little things, that you give your servant and your dog.
Margaret. It’s madness—