HE [humbly] Yes: I deserve that. I think if I were going to the
stake with you, I should still be so happy with you that I could
hardly feel your danger more than my own.

SHE [relenting and patting his hand fondly] Oh, you are a dear
darling boy, Henry; but [throwing his hand away fretfully] you're
no use. I want somebody to tell me what to do.

HE [with quiet conviction] Your heart will tell you at the right
time. I have thought deeply over this; and I know what we two
must do, sooner or later.

SHE. No, Henry. I will do nothing improper, nothing dishonorable.
[She sits down plump on the stool and looks inflexible].

HE. If you did, you would no longer be Aurora. Our course is
perfectly simple, perfectly straightforward, perfectly stainless
and true. We love one another. I am not ashamed of that: I am
ready to go out and proclaim it to all London as simply as I will
declare it to your husband when you see--as you soon will see--
that this is the only way honorable enough for your feet to
tread. Let us go out together to our own house, this evening,
without concealment and without shame. Remember! we owe something
to your husband. We are his guests here: he is an honorable man:
he has been kind to us: he has perhaps loved you as well as his
prosaic nature and his sordid commercial environment permitted.
We owe it to him in all honor not to let him learn the truth from
the lips of a scandalmonger. Let us go to him now quietly, hand
in hand; bid him farewell; and walk out of the house without