MELISANDE (sinking on to the sofa and hiding her face). Oh, cruel, cruel!
GERVASE (remorsefully). Oh, forgive me, Melisande. It was horrible of me.
MELISANDE. No, but it's true. How could any romance come into this house? Now you know why I wanted you to take me away--away to the ends of the earth with you.
MELISANDE. Ah, don't! When you're on the Stock Exchange!
GERVASE. But there's plenty of romance on the Stock Exchange. (Nodding his head) Oh yes, you want to look out for it.
MELISANDE (reproachfully). Now you're laughing at me again.
GERVASE. My dear, I'm not. Or if I am laughing at you, then I am laughing at myself too. And if we can laugh together, then we can be happy together, Melisande.
MELISANDE. I want romance, I want beauty. I don't want jokes.
GERVASE. I see what it is. You don't like my knickerbockers.
MELISANDE (bewildered). Did you expect me to?
GERVASE. No. (After a pause) I think that's why I put 'em on. (She looks at him in surprise.) You see, we had to come back to the twentieth century some time; we couldn't go on pretending for ever. Well, here we are--(indicating his clothes)--back. But I feel just as romantic, Melisande. I want beauty--your beauty--just as much. (He goes to her.)
MELISANDE. Which Melisande do you want? The one who talked to you this morning in the wood, or the one who--(bitterly) does all the housekeeping for her mother? (Violently) And badly, badly, badly!
GERVASE. The one who does all the housekeeping for her mother--and badly, badly, badly, _bless_ her, because she has never realised what a gloriously romantic thing housekeeping is.
GERVASE (with enthusiasm). Most gloriously romantic. . . . Did you ever long when you were young to be wrecked on a desert island?
GERVASE. You imagined yourself there--alone or with a companion?
GERVASE. And what were you doing? What is the romance of the desert island which draws us all? Climbing the bread-fruit tree, following the turtle to see where it deposits its eggs, discovering the spring of water, building the hut--_housekeeping_, Melisande. . . . Or take Robinson Crusoe. When Man Friday came along and left his footprint in the sand, why did Robinson Crusoe stagger back in amazement? Because he said to himself, like a good housekeeper, "By Jove, I'm on the track of a servant at last." There's romance for you!
