John. But you'll remain to quarrel!
Cynthia. [Still frank and kind.] I will not quarrel. No!—and I'm only here for a moment. I'm to be married at three, and just look at the clock! Besides, I told Philip I was going to Louise's shop, and I did—on the way here; but, you see, if I stay too long he'll telephone Louise and find I'm not there, and he might guess I was here. So you see I'm risking a scandal. And now, Jack, see here, I lay my hand on the table, I'm here on the square, and,—what I want to say is, why—Jack, even if we have made a mess of our married life, let's put by anger and pride. It's all over now and can't be helped. So let's be human, let's be reasonable, and let's be kind to each other! Won't you give me your hand? [John refuses.] I wish you every happiness!
John. [Turning away, the past rankling.] I had a client once, a murderer; he told me he murdered the man, and he told me, too, that he never felt so kindly to anybody as he did to that man after he'd killed him!
Cynthia. Jack!
John. [Unforgiving.] You murdered my happiness!
Cynthia. I won't recriminate!
John. And now I must put by anger and pride! I do! But not self-respect, not a just indignation—not the facts and my clear memory of them!
Cynthia. Jack!
John. No!
Cynthia. [With growing emotion, and holding out her hand.] I give you one more chance! Yes, I'm determined to be generous. I forgive everything you ever did to me. I'm ready to be friends. I wish you every happiness and every—every—horse in the world! I can't do more than that! [She offers it again.] You refuse?