What else d’you expect me to do? D’you think I’m going to bolt to America, to be brought back in six months by a couple of detectives? Not much.
Catherine.
Wouldn’t it be better to stay and face it? If you’ve done wrong, can’t you accept your punishment? You’re young still.
George Winter.
They won’t have mercy on me. It’ll mean ten years. And when I come out, it’ll mean hiding, doing odd jobs, like Bennett, dirty work for other men who won’t risk their own skins. And what d’you suppose a life like that is worth to me? I want the power, and the notoriety, and the glamour. I wanted men to point me out in the street. I’ve aimed too high to be content with anything but the highest.
Catherine.
Oh, it’s horrible.
George Winter.
Come, Kate—honestly—if you loved me, wouldn’t you wish me to make an end of it?
Catherine.