edward. [turning to her again.] My dear, what have we to start life upon . . to build our house upon? Poverty . . and prison for me.
alice. [mischievous.] Edward, you seem to think that all the money in the world was invested in your precious firm. I have four hundred a year of my own. At least let that tempt you.
edward catches her in his arms with a momentary little burst of passion.
edward. You're tempting me.
She did not resist, but nevertheless he breaks away from her, disappointed with himself. She goes on, quietly, serenely.
alice. Am I? Am I playing upon your senses in any way? Am I a silly child looking to you for protection in return for your favour? Shall I hinder or help your life? If you don't think me your equal as woman to man, we'll never speak of this again. But if you do . . look at me and make your choice. To refuse me my work and happiness in life and to cripple your own nature . . or to take my hand.
She puts out her hand frankly, as a friend should. With only a second's thought he, happy too now, takes it as frankly. Then she sits beside him and quite cheerfully changes the subject.
alice. Now, referring to the subject of Mr. George Booth. What will he do?
edward. [responsive though impatient.] He'll do nothing. I shall be before him.