SHE. So I see... and feel. My true and faithful lover, where is your “eternal constancy,” “unalterable trust,” and “reverent devotion”? I remember those phrases; you seem to have forgotten them. I mention a man's name—
HE. A good deal more than that.
SHE. Well, speak to him about a dance—perhaps the last dance that I shall ever dance in my life before I... before I go away; and you at once distrust and insult me.
HE. I never said a word.
SHE. How much did you imply? Guy, is this amount of confidence to be our stock to start the new life on?
HE. No, of course not. I didn't mean that. On my word of honor, I didn't. Let it pass, dear. Please let it pass.
SHE. This once—yes—and a second time, and again and again, all through the years when I shall be unable to resent it. You want too much, my Lancelot, and... you know too much.
HE. How do you mean?
SHE. That is a part of the punishment. There cannot be perfect trust between us.
HE. In Heaven's name, why not?