GEORGE. Will you come? [CLARE shakes her head]
GEORGE. [With fury] D'you mean to stay in this pigsty with that rhapsodical swine?
MALISE. [Transformed] By God, if you don't go, I'll kill you.
GEORGE. [As suddenly calm] That remains to be seen.
MALISE. [With most deadly quietness] Yes, I will kill you.
He goes stealthily along the wall, takes up from where it lies on the pile of books the great black knobby stick, and stealthily approaches GEORGE, his face quite fiendish.
CLARE. [With a swift movement, grasping the stick] Please.
MALISE resigns the stick, and the two men, perfectly still, glare at each other. CLARE, letting the stick fall, puts her foot on it. Then slowly she takes off her hat and lays it on the table.
CLARE. Now will you go! [There is silence]
GEORGE. [Staring at her hat] You mad little fool! Understand this; if you've not returned home by three o'clock I'll divorce you, and you may roll in the gutter with this high-souled friend of yours. And mind this, you sir—I won't spare you—by God! Your pocket shall suffer. That's the only thing that touches fellows like you.