AUBREY.
You can be very cruel.
PAULA.
That word"s always on a man"s lips; he uses it if his soup"s cold.
[_With another movement as if to go._] Need we----
AUBREY.
I know I"ve wounded you, Paula. But isn"t there any way out of this?
PAULA.
When does Ellean return? To-morrow? Next week?
AUBREY.
[_Wearily._] Oh! Why should we grudge Ellean the little pleasure she is likely to find in Paris and in London.
PAULA.
I grudge her nothing, if that"s a hit at me. But with that woman----!
AUBREY.
It must be that woman or another. You know that at present we are unable to give Ellean the opportunity of--of----
PAULA.
Of mixing with respectable people.
AUBREY.
The opportunity of gaining friends, experience, ordinary knowledge of the world. If you are interested in Ellean, can"t you see how useful Mrs. Cortelyon"s good offices are?
PAULA.
May I put one question? At the end of the London season, when Mrs.
Cortelyon has done with Ellean, is it quite understood that the girl comes back to us? [AUBREY _is silent._] Is it? Is it?
AUBREY.
Let us wait till the end of the season----
PAULA.
Oh! I knew it. You"re only fooling me; you put me off with any trash. I believe you"ve sent Ellean away, not for the reasons you give, but because you don"t consider me a decent companion for her, because you"re afraid she might get a little of her innocence rubbed off in my company? Come, isn"t that the truth? Be honest! Isn"t that it?
AUBREY.
Yes.
[_There is a moment"s silence on both sides._
PAULA.
[_With uplifted hands as if to strike him._] Oh!
AUBREY.
[_Taking her by the wrists._] Sit down. Sit down. [_He puts her into a chair; she shakes herself free with a cry._] Now listen to me.
Fond as you are, Paula, of harking back to your past, there"s one chapter of it you always let alone. I"ve never asked you to speak of it; you"ve never offered to speak of it. I mean the chapter that relates to the time when you were--like Ellean. [_She attempts to rise; he restrains her._] No, no.
PAULA.
I don"t choose to talk about that time. I won"t satisfy your curiosity.
AUBREY.
My dear Paula, I have no curiosity--I know what you were at Ellean"s age. I"ll tell you. You hadn"t a thought that wasn"t a wholesome one, you hadn"t an impulse that didn"t tend towards good, you never harboured a notion you couldn"t have gossiped about to a parcel of children. [_She makes another effort to rise: he lays his hand lightly on her shoulder._] And this was a very few years back--there are days now when you look like a schoolgirl--but think of the difference between the two Paulas. You"ll have to think hard, because after a cruel life one"s perceptions grow a thick skin. But, for G.o.d"s sake, do think till you get these two images clearly in your mind, and then ask yourself what sort of a friend such a woman as you are to-day would have been for the girl of seven or eight years ago.
PAULA.
[_Rising._] How dare you? I could be almost as good a friend to Ellean as her own mother would have been had she lived. I know what you mean. How dare you?
AUBREY.
You say that; very likely you believe it. But you"re blind, Paula; you"re blind. You! Every belief that a young, pure-minded girl holds sacred--that you once held sacred--you now make a target for a jest, a sneer, a paltry cynicism. I tell you, you"re not mistress any longer of your thoughts or your tongue. Why, how often, sitting between you and Ellean, have I seen her cheeks turn scarlet as you"ve rattled off some tale that belongs by right to the club or the smoking-room! Have you noticed the blush? If you have, has the cause of it ever struck you? And this is the girl you say you love, I admit that you _do_ love, whose love you expect in return! Oh, Paula, I make the best, the only, excuse for you when I tell you you"re blind!
PAULA.
Ellean--Ellean blushes easily.
AUBREY.
You blushed as easily a few years ago.
PAULA.
[_After a short pause._] Well! Have you finished your sermon?
AUBREY.
[_With a gesture of despair._] Oh, Paula!
[_Going up to the window and standing with his back to the room._