am greatly
changed, Philip.

PHILIP.

[_Eyeing her._] You are more beautiful than ever.

OTTOLINE.

H'sh!--changed in my character, disposition, view of things. Life has
gone sadly with me since we parted.

PHILIP.

Indeed? I--I'm grieved.

OTTOLINE.

My marriage was an utter failure. You heard?

PHILIP.

[_Shaking his head._] No.

OTTOLINE.

No? [_Smiling faintly._] I thought _everybody_ hears when a marriage is
a failure. [_Mournfully._] The fact remains; it was a terrible mistake.
Poor Lucien! I don't blame him for my nine years of unhappiness. I
engaged myself to him in a hurry--out of pique----

PHILIP.

Pique?

OTTOLINE.

Within a few hours of that fatal visit of mine to your lodgings.
[_Looking at him significantly._] It was _that_ that drove me to it.

PHILIP.

[_Staring at her._] _That----!_

OTTOLINE.

[_Simply._] Yes, Phil.

PHILIP.

Otto!

OTTOLINE.

[_Plucking at the arm of her chair._] You see--you see, notwithstanding
the vulgarity of my mind, I had a deep respect for you. Even then there
were wholesome signs in me! [_Shrugging her shoulders plaintively._]
Whether I should have ended by obeying my better instincts, and
accepting you, I can't say. I believe I should. I--I believe I should.
At any rate, I had already begun to chafe under the consciousness that,
while you loved me, you had no esteem for me.

PHILIP.

[_Remorsefully._] My dear!

OTTOLINE.

[_Raising her head._] That scene between us in the Rue Soufflot set my
blood on fire. To have a request refused me was sufficiently mortifying;
but to be whipped, scourged, scarified, into the bargain--! I flew down
your stairs after I left you, and drove home, scorching with indignation;
and next morning I sent for Lucien--a blind adorer!--and promised to be
his wife. [_Leaning back._] _Comprenez-vous, maintenant?_ Solely to
hurt _you_; to hurt you, the one man among my acquaintances whom
I--admired!

[_She searches for her handkerchief. He rises and goes
to the mantelpiece