ANABEL. How CAN you say so?—Doesn't it show what you must be yourself? Doesn't it show?—What is there in your soul?
GERALD. I don't know.
ANABEL. Love, pure love?—Do you pretend it's love?
GERALD. I'm so tired of this.
ANABEL. So am I, dead tired: you self-deceiving, self complacent thing. Ha!—aren't you just the same? You haven't altered one scrap not a scrap.
GERALD. All right—you are always free to change yourself.
ANABEL. I HAVE changed I AM better, I DO love you—I love you wholly and unselfishly—I do—and I want a good new life with you.
GERALD. You're terribly wrapped up in your new goodness. I wish you'd make up your mind to be downright bad.
ANABEL. Ha!—Do you?—You'd soon see. You'd soon see where you'd be if—— There's somebody coming. (Rises.)
GERALD. Never mind; it's the clerks leaving work, I suppose. Sit still.