Lawers? You were lying on your face in the heather; you said it was
like kissing a loved woman. There was a lark singing--you said that
was the voice of one's worship. The hills were very blue; that's why
we had blue here, because it was the best dress of our country. You
do love her.

MORE. Love her!

KATHERINE. You'd have done this for me--then.

MORE. Would you have asked me--then, Kit?

KATHERINE. Yes. The country's our country! Oh! Stephen, think
what it'll be like for me--with Hubert and the other boys out there.
And poor Helen, and Father! I beg you not to make this speech.

MORE. Kit! This isn't fair. Do you want me to feel myself a cur?

KATHERINE. [Breathless] I--I--almost feel you'll be a cur to do it
[She looks at him, frightened by her own words. Then, as the footman
HENRY has come in to clear the table--very low] I ask you not!

[He does not answer, and she goes out.]

MORE [To the servant] Later, please, Henry, later!

The servant retires. MORE still stands looking down at the
dining-table; then putting his hand to his throat, as if to free
it from the grip of his collar, he pours out a glass of water,
and drinks it of. In the street, outside the bay window, two