courage to open it, and that I ought to be ashamed of having written
it. (Comes beside Grace, and puts his left hand caressingly round her
neck.) You see, dearie, she won't look the situation in the face.

GRACE. (shaking off his hand and turning a little away on the stool).
I am afraid, from the light way in which you speak of it, you did not
sound the right chord.

CHARTERIS. My dear, when you are doing what a woman calls breaking her
heart, you may sound the very prettiest chords you can find on the
piano; but to her ears it is just like this--(Sits down on the bass
end of the keyboard. Grace puts her fingers in her ears. He rises and
moves away from the piano, saying) No, my dear: I've been kind; I've
been frank; I've been everything that a goodnatured man could be: she
only takes it as the making up of a lover's quarrel. (Grace winces.)
Frankness and kindness: one is as the other--especially frankness.
I've tried both. (He crosses to the fireplace, and stands facing the
fire, looking at the ornaments on the mantelpiece and warming his
hands.)

GRACE (Her voice a little strained). What are you going to try now?

CHARTERIS (on the hearthrug, turning to face her). Action, my dear!
Marriage!! In that she must believe. She won't be convinced by
anything short of it, because, you see, I have had some tremendous
philanderings before and have gone back to her after them.

GRACE. And so that is why you want to marry me?

CHARTERIS. I cannot deny it, my love. Yes: it is your mission to