CLARE. Look! [She points out at the night and the darkening towers] If George saw that for the first time he'd just say, "Ah, Westminster! Clock Tower! Can you see the time by it?" As if one cared where or what it was—beautiful like that! Apply that to every —every—everything.
HUNTINGDON. [Staring] George may be a bit prosaic. But, my dear old girl, if that's all——
CLARE. It's not all—it's nothing. I can't explain, Reggie—it's not reason, at all; it's—it's like being underground in a damp cell; it's like knowing you'll never get out. Nothing coming—never anything coming again-never anything.
HUNTINGDON. [Moved and puzzled] My dear old thing; you mustn't get into fantods like this. If it's like that, don't think about it.
CLARE. When every day and every night!—Oh! I know it's my fault for having married him, but that doesn't help.
HUNTINGDON. Look here! It's not as if George wasn't quite a decent chap. And it's no use blinking things; you are absolutely dependent on him. At home they've got every bit as much as they can do to keep going.
CLARE. I know.
HUNTINGDON. And you've got to think of the girls. Any trouble would be very beastly for them. And the poor old Governor would feel it awfully.
CLARE. If I didn't know all that, Reggie, I should have gone home long ago.
HUNTINGDON. Well, what's to be done? If my pay would run to it—but it simply won't.