Besides (coaxing her) it was nothing but
a philander with Julia--nothing else in the world, I assure you.
GRACE (breaking away from him). So much the worse! I hate your
philanderings: they make me ashamed of you and of myself. (Goes to the
sofa and sits in the right hand corner of it, leaning gloomily on her
elbow with her face averted.)
CHARTERIS. Grace: you utterly misunderstand the origin of my
philanderings. (Sits down beside her.) Listen to me: am I a
particularly handsome man?
GRACE (turning to him as if astonished at his conceit). No!
CHARTERIS (triumphantly). You admit it. Am I a well dressed man?
GRACE. Not particularly.
CHARTERIS. Of course not. Have I a romantic mysterious charm about
me?--do I look as if a secret sorrow preyed on me?--am I gallant
to women?
GRACE. Not in the least.
CHARTERIS. Certainly not. No one can accuse me of it. Then whose fault
is it that half the women I speak to fall in love with me? Not mine:
I hate it: it bores me to distraction. At first it flattered
me--delighted me--that was how Julia got me, because she was the first
woman who had the pluck to make me a declaration.
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