OLIVER. Why not, Gerald? Don't you think we ought to take up the
old threads?

GERALD. I don't think we ought to be left without choice. I don't
think Anabel ought to come back and thrust herself on me--for that's
what it amounts to, after all--when one remembers what's gone before.

ANABEL. I DON'T thrust myself on you at all. I know I'm a fool, a
fool, to come back. But I wanted to. I wanted to see you again.
Now I know I've presumed. I've made myself CHEAP to you. I wanted
to--I wanted to. And now I've done it, I won't come to Lilley Close
again, nor anywhere where you are. Tell your father I have gone to
France again--it will be true.

GERALD. You play tricks on me--and on yourself. You know you do.
You do it for the pure enjoyment of it. You're making a scene here
in this filthy market-place, just for the fun of it. You like to
see these accursed colliers standing eyeing you, and squatting on
their heels. You like to catch me out, here where I'm known, where
I've been the object of their eyes since I was born. This is a
great _coup de main_ for you. I knew it the moment I saw you here.

OLIVER. After all, we ARE making a scene in the market-place. Get
in, Anabel, and we'll settle the dispute more privately. I'm glad
you came back, anyhow. I'm glad you came right down on us. Get in,
and let us run down to Whatmore.

ANABEL. No, Oliver. I don't want to run down to Whatmore. I wanted
to see you--I wanted to see Gerald--and I've seen him--and I've heard
him. That will suffice me. We'll make an end of the scene in the