The Unknown; A Play in Three Acts

by W. Somerset Maugham

I’ve worn it for seven years, John.

[He turns away from Sylvia and walks over to the fire-place. When Sylvia sees what he is going to do she makes a gesture as though to prevent him, but immediately controls herself. He stands looking at the fire for a moment, then throws the ring in; he watches what will happen to it. Sylvia clutches her heart. She can hardly prevent the sobs which seem to tear her breast.

Sylvia.

I think I’ll be getting home. John—if your father or mother want me you can send, can’t you?

John.

[Looking over his shoulder.] Of course. I’ll let you know at once.

Sylvia.

[In a natural voice.] Good-bye, John.

John.

Good-bye, Sylvia.