we've found one another out there's only one thing to be done.
Will you please go?

GREGORY [rising slowly]. I OUGHT to go.

MRS. JUNO. Well, go.

GREGORY. Yes. Er--[he tries to go]. I--I somehow can't. [He sits
down again helplessly]. My conscience is active: my will is
paralyzed. This is really dreadful. Would you mind ringing the
bell and asking them to throw me out? You ought to, you know.

MRS. JUNO. What! make a scandal in the face of the whole hotel!
Certainly not. Don't be a fool.

GREGORY. Yes; but I can't go.

MRS. JUNO. Then I can. Goodbye.

GREGORY [clinging to her hand]. Can you really?

MRS. JUNO. Of course I--[she wavers]. Oh, dear! [They contemplate
one another helplessly]. I can't. [She sinks on the lounge, hand
in hand with him].

GREGORY. For heaven's sake pull yourself together. It's a
question of self-control.

MRS. JUNO [dragging her hand away and retreating to the end of
the chesterfield]. No: it's a question of distance. Self-control