(Exit Dex. c.)
ALLEN. (Turning to Clara.) What does it all mean?
CLARA. (Defiantly.) That I’ve been playing with you only for the sake of sponging on you. And to get money out of you for my father and husband—I haven’t had much myself—and that at last I’m grown tired of it. (Crosses R.)
ALLEN. (l.c. after a pause.) Thee might have had all the money thee wanted, lass, wi’out deceiving me.
CLARA. (Falling on her knees before him.) Forgive me, Allen, you don’t know what my life has been. Dragged up among thieves and sharpers, taught to trick and lie before I could speak plainly, I have never know what truth and honor meant except as a dim longing. All the humanity—all the womanhood—has been dried out of me till I am only the thing you see me—a vulture—a human beast of prey. Ah, Allen, thank God for your sake that I am married and that you have escaped me—forget me—it is the only thing you can do. You can never hate me as I loathe myself—you can never despise me as I shudder at my own life.
ALLEN. (Puts his hand to his own forehead ) Poor lass! Poor lass!
CLARA. (Takes’ Allen’s hand, left.) You are the only man that has been good to me, and I have brought you only pain and shame.
ALLEN. (Raising her.) Ah, never mind that, lass. Thee didn’t mean to do it. Come! I be more sorry for thee than for myself. I could see what sort of life thee had got around thee, and I wanted to take thee away from it all. I can do so little for thee now. (Both at cabinet, Allen r.)
CLARA. You have taught me, Allen, that there are good men in the world; forgive me for having taught you that there are bad women. (Clara crosses in front of Allen to r.door.)
ALLEN. Not bad, Clara. I guess thee’s been more sinned against than sinning. Thy life has been very dark and thee’s stumbled here and there. God grant that it may grow brighter for thee one day.