TWISDEN. [Bowing slightly] I am instructed by Mr. Dedmond to say that if you will leave your present companion and undertake not to see him again, he will withdraw the suit and settle three hundred a year on you. [At CLARE's movement of abhorrence] Don't misunderstand me, please—it is not—it could hardly be, a request that you should go back. Mr. Dedmond is not prepared to receive you again. The proposal—forgive my saying so—remarkably Quixotic—is made to save the scandal to his family and your own. It binds you to nothing but the abandonment of your present companion, with certain conditions of the same nature as to the future. In other words, it assures you a position—so long as you live quietly by yourself.
CLARE. I see. Will you please thank Mr. Dedmond, and say that I refuse?
MRS. FULLARTON. Clare, Clare! For God's sake don't be desperate.
[CLARE, deathly still, just looks at her]
TWISDEN. Mrs. Dedmond, I am bound to put the position to you in its naked brutality. You know there's a claim for damages?
CLARE. I have just learnt it.
TWISDEN. You realize what the result of this suit must be: You will be left dependent on an undischarged bankrupt. To put it another way, you'll be a stone round the neck of a drowning man.
CLARE. You are cowards.
MRS. FULLARTON. Clare, Clare! [To TWISDEN] She doesn't mean it; please be patient.
CLARE. I do mean it. You ruin him because of me. You get him down, and kick him to intimidate me.