BEATRICE. Michael; I came to beg. It's hard.
STRANGWAY. No; don't beg! I can't stand it.
[She shakes her head.]
BEATRICE. [Recovering her pride] What are you going to do, then?
Keep us apart by the threat of a divorce? Starve us and prison us?
Cage me up here with you? I'm not brute enough to ruin him.
STRANGWAY. Heaven!
BEATRICE. I never really stopped loving him. I never—loved you,
Michael.
STRANGWAY. [Stunned] Is that true? [BEATRICE bends her head]
Never loved me? Not—that night—on the river—not——?
BEATRICE. [Under her breath] No.
STRANGWAY. Were you lying to me, then? Kissing me, and—hating me?
BEATRICE. One doesn't hate men like you; but it wasn't love.