t to go away out of
mere contrariness, eh?

Judith, unable to bear it, sinks on the chair and bursts into tears.

RICHARD. Stop, stop, stop, I tell you. Don't do that. (Putting his hand
to his breast as if to a wound.) He wrung my heart by being a man. Need
you tear it by being a woman? Has he not raised you above my insults,
like himself? (She stops crying, and recovers herself somewhat, looking
at him with a scared curiosity.) There: that's right.
(Sympathetically.) You're better now, aren't you? (He puts his hand
encouragingly on her shoulder. She instantly rises haughtily, and
stares at him defiantly. He at once drops into his usual sardonic
tone.) Ah, that's better. You are yourself again: so is Richard. Well,
shall we go to tea like a quiet respectable couple, and wait for your
husband's return?

JUDITH (rather ashamed of herself). If you please. I--I am sorry to
have been so foolish. (She stoops to take up the plate of toast from
the fender.)

RICHARD. I am sorry, for your sake, that I am--what I am. Allow me. (He
takes the plate from her and goes with it to the table.)

JUDITH (following with the teapot). Will you sit down? (He sits down at
the end of the table nearest the press. There is a plate and knife laid
there. The other plate is laid near it; but Judith stays at the
opposite end of the table, next the fire, and takes her place there,
drawing the tray towards her.) Do you take sugar?

RICHARD. No; but plenty of milk. Let me give you some toast. (He puts
some on the second plate, and hands it to her, with the knife. The
action shows quietly how well he knows that she has avoided her usual
place so as to be as far from him as possible.)

JUDITH (consciously). Thanks. (She gives him his tea.) Won't you help
yourself?

RICHARD. Thanks. (He puts a piece of toast on his own plate; and she
pours out tea for herself.)

JUDITH (observing that he tastes nothing). Don't you like it? You are
not eating anything.

RICHARD. Neither are you.

JUDITH (nervously). I never care much for my tea. Please don't mind me.

RICHARD (Looking dreamily round). I am thinking. It is all so strange
to me. I can see the beauty and peace of this home: I think I have
never been more at rest in my life than at this moment; and yet I know
quite well I could never live here. It's not in my nature, I suppose,
to be domesticated. But it's very beautiful: it's almost holy. (He
muses a moment, and then laughs softly.)

JUDITH (