verb.

JOY. It can't be true about marriage--how can it when----?

DICK. [With intense earnestness.] But look here, Joy, I know a
really clever man--an author. He says that if marriage is a failure
people ought to be perfectly free; it isn't everybody who believes
that marriage is everything. Of course, I believe it 's sacred, but
if it's a failure, I do think it seems awful--don't you?

JOY. I don't know--yes--if--[Suddenly] But it's my own Mother!

DICK. [Gravely.] I know, of course. I can't expect you to see it
in your own case like this. [With desperation.] But look here, Joy,
this'll show you! If a person loves a person, they have to decide,
have n't they? Well, then, you see, that 's what your Mother's done.

JOY. But that does n't show me anything!

DICK. But it does. The thing is to look at it as if it was n't
yourself. If it had been you and me in love, Joy, and it was wrong,
like them, of course [ruefully] I know you'd have decided right.
[Fiercely.] But I swear I should have decided wrong.
[Triumphantly.] That 's why I feel I understand your Mother.

JOY. [Brushing her sleeve across her eyes.] Oh, Dick, you are so
sweet--and--and--funny!

DICK. [Sliding his arm about her.] I love you, Joy, that 's why,
and I 'll love you till you don't feel it any more. I will. I'll
love you all day and every day; you shan't miss anything, I swear it.
It 's such a beautiful night--it 's on purpose. Look' [JOY looks; he
looks at her.] But it 's not so beautiful as you.

JOY. [Bending her head.] You mustn't. I don't know--what's coming?

DICK. [Sidling closer.] Are n't your knees tired, darling? I--I
can't get near you properly.

JOY. [With a sob.] Oh! Dick, you are a funny--comfort!

DICK. We'll stick together, Joy, always; nothing'll matter then.

[They struggle to their feet-the waltz sounds louder.]

You're missing it all! I can't bear you to miss the dancing. It
seems so queer! Couldn't we? Just a little turn?

JOY. No, no?

DICK. Oh! try!

[He takes her gently by the waist, she shrinks back.]

JOY. [Brokenly.] No-no! Oh! Dick-to-morrow 'll be so awful.

DICK. To-morrow shan't hurt you, Joy; nothing shall ever hurt you
again.

[She looks at him, and her face changes; suddenly she buries it
against his shoulder.]

[They stand so just a moment in the moon light; then turning to the
river move slowly out of sight. Again the hollo