Cobbett.
Claude?
Grace.
[With a sort of appeal, as if she were excusing herself.] He’s so awfully good to me, Harry. Every present he gives me, every kind word is like a stab in my heart. I’m beastly to him sometimes, I can’t help it, but nothing seems to make any difference to him.... Whatever I do, he loves me.
Cobbett.
Are you beginning to care for Claude—differently?
Grace.
Oh, it’s no use pretending. I never loved him as he loved me. I couldn’t. I was bored by his love. Yes, all the time we’ve been married.... It’s only lately....
[She pauses abruptly. Cobbett gives her a sidelong glance.
Cobbett.