He goes into the inner room. The moment he is gone, CLARE stands up, her hands pressed to her cheeks as if she felt them flaming. Then, with hands clasped, she stands waiting. He comes back with the old portfolio.
MALISE. Can you typewrite where you are?
CLARE. I have to find a new room anyway. I'm changing—to be safe. [She takes a luggage ticket from her glove] I took my things to Charing Cross—only a bag and one trunk. [Then, with that queer expression on her face which prefaces her desperations] You don't want me now, I suppose.
MALISE. What?
CLARE. [Hardly above a whisper] Because—if you still wanted me— I do—now.
[Etext editors note: In the 1924 revision, 11 years after this 1913 edition: "I do—now" is changed to "I could—now"— a significant change in meaning. D.W.]
MALISE. [Staring hard into her face that is quivering and smiling] You mean it? You do? You care——?
CLARE. I've thought of you—so much! But only—if you're sure.
He clasps her and kisses her closed eyes; and so they stand for a moment, till the sound of a latchkey in the door sends them apart.
MALISE. It's the housekeeper. Give me that ticket; I'll send for your things.