Denham.

Oh, I acquit you completely! We drifted--that was all. Jest
sometimes turns to earnest. Well, go--go with those tears in your
eyes. There is nothing worth crying about--more than is becoming.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Don't say unkind things to me. I can't bear them, though I suppose I
deserve them. I liked you, and your admiration flattered my vanity;
and I suppose I may have made you think I cared more for you than--I
did.

Denham.

Well, you don't love me. What does it matter? _I_ love _you_; that
is the important thing to me. I thank you for that eternal
possession. Let it be a dream, austere and pure. Passion has its own
ascetic cell, where it can fast and scourge itself. I ask you for
nothing, Blanche. I am yours wholly. Do what you like with me.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Go back to your wife.

Denham.

Yes--my poor Constance! Well, Blanche, at least you and I can't
utterly spoil each other's lives. We can't _marry_ each other.