CLARE breaks into the soft laugh of the other evening. As if galvanized by the sound, SIR CHARLES comes to life out of the transfixed bewilderment with which he has been listening.
SIR CHARLES. For God's sake don't laugh like that!
[CLARE Stops]
LADY DEDMOND. [With real feeling] For the sake of the simple right, Clare!
CLARE. Right? Whatever else is right—our life is not. [She puts her hand on her heart] I swear before God that I've tried and tried. I swear before God, that if I believed we could ever again love each other only a little tiny bit, I'd go back. I swear before God that I don't want to hurt anybody.
LADY DEDMOND. But you are hurting everybody. Do—do be reasonable!
CLARE. [Losing control] Can't you see that I'm fighting for all my life to come—not to be buried alive—not to be slowly smothered. Look at me! I'm not wax—I'm flesh and blood. And you want to prison me for ever—body and soul.
[They stare at her]
SIR CHARLES. [Suddenly] By Jove! I don't know, I don't know! What!
LADY DEDMOND. [To MALISE] If you have any decency left, sir, you will allow my son, at all events, to speak to his wife alone. [Beckoning to her husband] We'll wait below.