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HYPATIA. Because we want to, handsome young man.

PERCIVAL. But if everybody went on in this way–

HYPATIA. How happy! oh how happy the world would be!

PERCIVAL. But the consequences may be serious.

HYPATIA. Nothing is worth doing unless the consequences may be serious. My father says so; and I’m my father’s daughter.

PERCIVAL. I’m the son of three fathers. I mistrust these wild impulses.

HYPATIA. Take care. Youre letting the moment slip. I feel the first chill of the wave of prudence. Save me.

PERCIVAL. Really, Miss Tarleton [she strikes him across the face] –Damn you! [Recovering himself, horrified at his lapse] I beg your pardon; but since weve both forgotten ourselves, youll please allow me to leave the house. [He turns towards the inner door, having left his cap in the bedroom].

HYPATIA. [standing in his way] Are you ashamed of having said “Damn you” to me?

PERCIVAL. I had no right to say it. I’m very much ashamed of it. I have already begged your pardon.

HYPATIA. And youre not ashamed of having said “Really, Miss Tarleton.”

PERCIVAL. Why should I?

HYPATIA. O man, man! mean, stupid, cowardly, selfish masculine male man! You ought to have been a governess. I was expelled from school for saying that the very next person that said “Really, Miss Tarleton,” to me, I would strike her across the face. You were the next.

PERCIVAL. I had no intention of being offensive. Surely there is nothing that can wound any lady in–[He hesitates, not quite convinced]. At least–er–I really didnt mean to be disagreeable.

HYPATIA. Liar.

PERCIVAL. Of course if youre going to insult me, I am quite helpless. Youre a woman: you can say what you like.

HYPATIA. And you can only say what you dare. Poor wretch: it isnt much. [He bites his lip, and sits down, very much annoyed]. Really, Mr Percival! You sit down in the presence of a lady and leave her standing. [He rises hastily]. Ha, ha! Really, Mr Percival! Oh really, really, really, really, really, Mr Percival! How do you like it? Wouldnt you rather I damned you?

PERCIVAL. Miss Tarleton–

HYPATIA. [caressingly] Hypatia, Joey. Patsy, if you like.

PERCIVAL. Look here: this is no good. You want to do what you like?

HYPATIA. Dont you?

PERCIVAL. No. Ive been too well brought up. Ive argued all through this thing; and I tell you I’m not prepared to cast off the social bond. It’s like a corset: it’s a support to the figure even if it does squeeze and deform it a bit. I want to be free.

HYPATIA. Well, I’m tempting you to be free.

PERCIVAL. Not at all. Freedom, my good girl, means being able to count on how other people will behave. If every man who dislikes me is to throw a handful of mud in my face, and every woman who likes me is to behave like Potiphar’s wife, then I shall be a slave: the slave of uncertainty: the slave of fear: the worst of all slaveries. How would you like it if every laborer you met in the road were to make love to you? No. Give me the blessed protection of a good stiff conventionality among thoroughly well-brought up ladies and gentlemen.