MRS. JUNO. If you could, would you?

GREGORY [burying his shamed face in his hands]. No: I'd die
first. Oh, I hate myself.

MRS. JUNO. I glory in myself. It's so jolly to be reckless. CAN a
man be reckless, I wonder.

GREGORY [straightening himself desperately]. No. I'm not
reckless. I know what I'm doing: my conscience is awake. Oh,
where is the intoxication of love? the delirium? the madness that
makes a man think the world well lost for the woman he adores? I
don't think anything of the sort: I see that it's not worth it: I
know that it's wrong: I have never in my life been cooler, more
businesslike.

MRS. JUNO. [opening her arms to him] But you can't resist me.

GREGORY. I must. I ought [throwing himself into her arms]. Oh, my
darling, my treasure, we shall be sorry for this.

MRS. JUNO. We can forgive ourselves. Could we forgive ourselves
if we let this moment slip?

GREGORY. I protest to the last. I'm against this. I have been
pushed over a precipice. I'm innocent. This wild joy, this
exquisite tenderness, this ascent into heaven can thrill me to
the uttermost fibre of my heart [with a gesture of ecstasy she
hides her face on his shoulder]; but it can't subdue my mind or