DICK. Don't think about it! No, no, no! I know exactly what it's like. [He strokes her arm.]
JOY. [Shrinking, in a whisper.] You mustn't.
[The music of a waltz is heard again.]
DICK. Look here, joy! It's no good, we must talk it over calmly.
JOY. You don't see! It's the—it 's the disgrace——
DICK. Oh! as to disgrace—she's your Mother, whatever she does; I'd like to see anybody say anything about her—[viciously]—I'd punch his head.
JOY. [Gulping her tears.] That does n't help.
DICK. But if she doesn't love your Father——
JOY. But she's married to him!
DICK. [Hastily.] Yes, of course, I know, marriage is awfully important; but a man understands these things.