Mrs. Denham.
Oh yes, compromise, compromise, the god that men worship! Go to your
mistress, if she will have you. I renounce you.
Mrs. Tremaine.
(_laughing bitterly_) Excuse me, but our little comedy is played
out. I am out of the story. (_Exit._)
Denham.
(_crosses up to door_) Stay, Blanche! You must not go like this. One
moment, Constance.
(_Exit, following Mrs. Tremaine._)
Mrs. Denham.
(_flinging herself down on the sofa_) My God! my God! what am I to
do? How am I to live? I cannot stay in this house with a man who no
longer loves me. Oh, if _she_ had not come between us! Yes, yes! A
pretty face and a little flattery outweighs a life's devotion. Oh,
it is hard, it is hard!
(_A pause. Then enter Undine._)
Undine.
Mother! Are you sick?
Mrs. Denham.
No, dear. I have a headache, that's all.
Undine.
I'm sorry, mother. (_Kisses her._)
Mrs. Denham.
(_clasping her in her arms_) Well, what does my little girl want
now?
Undine.
May I go and play with Maude and Bertie after school to-morrow, and
stay to tea?
Mrs. Denham.
You may go and play; but you know I cannot let you stay to tea.
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