DAWKER. [Passing his tongue over his lips with a hard little laugh] You mistake your man, missis. I'm a plain dog, if you like, but I'm faithful, and I hold fast. Don't try those games on me.
CHLOE. [Losing control] You're a beast!—a beast! a cruel, cowardly beast! And how dare you bribe that woman here to spy on me? Oh! yes, you do; you know you do. If you drove me mad, you wouldn't care. You beast!
DAWKER. Now, don't carry on! That won't help you.
CHLOE. What d'you call it—to dog a woman down like this, just because you happen to have a quarrel with a man?
DAWKER. Who made the quarrel? Not me, missis. You ought to know that in a row it's the weak and helpless—we won't say the innocent —that get it in the neck. That can't be helped.
CHLOE. [Regarding him intently] I hope your mother or your sister, if you've got any, may go through what I'm going through ever since you got on my track. I hope they'll know what fear means. I hope they'll love and find out that it's hanging on a thread, and—and— Oh! you coward, you persecuting coward! Call yourself a man!
DAWKER. [With his grin] Ah! You look quite pretty like that. By George! you're a handsome woman when you're roused.
[CHLOE'S passion fades out as quickly as it blazed up. She sinks down on the sofa, shudders, looks here and there, and then for a moment up at him.]
CHLOE. Is there anything you'll take, not to spoil my life? [Clasping her hands on her breast; under her breath] Me?
DAWKER. [Wiping his brow] By God! That's an offer. [He recoils towards the window] You—you touched me there. Look here! I've got to use you and I'm going to use you, but I'll do my best to let you down as easy as I can. No, I don't want anything you can give me—that is—[He wipes his brow again] I'd like it—but I won't take it.