[Her voice breaks and the tears course down her cheeks. George is shattered by what she has told him.
George. I suppose there are few of us that wouldn't turn away from ourselves in horror if the innermost thoughts of our heart, the thoughts we're only conscious of to hate, were laid bare. But that shameful thing that showed itself in me isn't me. I disown it....
Daisy. I thought you had more courage. I thought you had more sense. Do you call that you, a few conventional prejudices? The real you is the love that consumes you more hotly than ever the fever did. The only you is the you that loves me. The rest is only frills. It's a domino that you put on at a masked ball.
George. You don't know what you say. Frills? It's honour, and duty, and decency. It's everything that makes it possible for me to cling to the shadow of my self-respect.
Daisy. Oh, all that means nothing. You fool. You might as well try with your bare hands to stop the flow of the Yangtze.
George. If I perish I perish. Oh, of course I love you. All night I'm tortured with love and tortured with jealousy, but the day does come at last and then I can get hold of myself again. My love is some horrible thing gnawing at my heart-strings. I hate it and despise it. But I can fight it, fight it all the time. Oh, I've been here too long. I ought to have got back to work long ago. Work is my only chance. Daisy, I beseech you to let me go.
Daisy. How can I let you go? I love you.
George. [Thunderstruck.] You? [Impatiently, with a shrug of the shoulders.] Oh, you're talking nonsense.
Daisy. Why do you suppose I've said all these things? Do you think a woman cares twopence for a man's love when she doesn't love him?
George. Oh, it's impossible. You don't know what you're saying. I know how good and kind you are. You've been touched by my love. You mistake pity for love.