CLARE. Nor with it?
TWISDEN. [Approaching her] Come, now; isn't there anything you feel you'd like to say—that might help to put matters straight?
CLARE. I don't think so, thank you.
LADY DEDMOND. You must see, Clare, that——
TWISDEN. In your position, Mrs. Dedmond—a beautiful young woman without money. I'm quite blunt. This is a hard world. Should be awfully sorry if anything goes wrong.
CLARE. And if I go back?
TWISDEN. Of two evils, if it be so—choose the least!
CLARE. I am twenty-six; he is thirty-two. We can't reasonably expect to die for fifty years.
LADY DESMOND. That's morbid, Clare.
TWISDEN. What's open to you if you don't go back? Come, what's your position? Neither fish, flesh, nor fowl; fair game for everybody. Believe me, Mrs. Dedmond, for a pretty woman to strike, as it appears you're doing, simply because the spirit of her marriage has taken flight, is madness. You must know that no one pays attention to anything but facts. If now—excuse me—you—you had a lover, [His eyes travel round the room and again rest on her] you would, at all events, have some ground under your feet, some sort of protection, but [He pauses] as you have not—you've none.