Anne [hurt]. Oh, I don't know. After a while I suppose you and my dream got confused.
Harold. But it was the rankest—
Anne. Oh, I'm not so different from other girls. We're all like that. [Repeating Ruth's phrase reminiscently.] We must have some one to dream about—to talk about. I suppose it's because we haven't enough to do. And then we don't have any—any real adventures like—shop girls.
Harold [surprised at this bit of reality]. That's a funny thing to say!
Anne. Well, it's true. I know I went rather far. After I got started I couldn't stop. I didn't want to, either. It took hold of me. So I went on and on and let people think whatever they wanted. But if you go now and people find out what I've done, they'll think I'm really mad—or something worse. Life will be impossible for me here, don't you see—impossible. [Harold is silent.] But if you stay, it will be so easy. Just a day or two. Then you will have to go to India. Is that much to ask? [Acting.] And you save me from disgrace, from ruin!
[Harold remains silent, troubled.]
Anne [becoming impassioned]. You must help me. You must. After I've been so frank with you, you can't go back on me now. I've never in my life talked to any one like this—so openly. You can't go back on me! If you leave me here to be laughed at, mocked at by every one, I don't know what I shall do. I shan't be responsible. If you have any kindness, any chivalry.... Oh, for God's sake, Harold, help me, help me!
[Kneels at his feet.]
Harold. I don't know.... I'm horribly muddled.... All right, I'll stay!
Anne. Good! Good! Oh, you are fine! I knew you would be. Now everything will be so simple. [The vista opens before her.] We will be very quiet here for a couple of days. We won't see many people, for of course it isn't announced. And then you will go ... and I will write you a letter....