_[They go out together, laughing at him....

[They go out together, laughing at him. Harry collapses into a chair, shuddering in every nerve. Blanche appears at the door. Her face lights up when she sees that he is alone. She trips noiselessly to the back of his chair and clasps her hands over his eyes. With a convulsive start and exclamation he springs up and breaks away from her].

BLANCHE [astonished] Harry!

TRENCH [with distracted politeness] I beg your pardon. I was thinking won’t you sit down?

BLANCHE [looking suspiciously at him] Is anything the matter? [She sits down slowly near the writing table. He takes Cokane's chair'].

TRENCH. No. Oh no.

BLANCHE. Papa has not been disagreeable, I hope.

TRENCH. No: I have hardly spoken to him since I was with you. [He rises; takes up his chair; and plants it beside hers. This pleases her better. She looks at him with her most winning smile. A sort of sob breaks from him ; and he catches her hands and kisses them passionately. Then, looking into her eyes with intense earnestness, he says] Blanche: are you fond of money?

BLANCHE [gaily] Very. Are you going to give me any?

TRENCH [wincing] Don’t make a joke of it: I'm serious. Do you know that we shall be very poor?

BLANCHE. Is that what made you look as if you had neuralgia?

TRENCH [pleadingly] My dear: it's no laughing matter. Do you know that I have a bare seven hundred a year to live on?

BLANCHE. How dreadful!

TRENCH. Blanche: it's very serious indeed: I assure you it is.

BLANCHE. It would keep me rather short in my housekeeping, dearest boy, if I had nothing of my own. But papa has promised me that I shall be richer than ever when we are married.

TRENCH. We must do the best we can with seven hundred. I think we ought to be self-supporting.

BLANCHE. That’s just what I mean to be, Harry. If I were to eat up half your 700, I should be making you twice as poor ; but I'm going to make you twice as rich instead. [He shakes his head]. Has papa made any difficulty?

TRENCH [rising with a sigh and taking his chair back to its former place] No, none at all. [He sits down dejectedly. When Blanche speaks again her face and voice betray the beginning of a struggle with her temper].

BLANCHE. Harry: are you too proud to take money from my father?

TRENCH. Yes, Blanche: I am too proud.

BLANCHE [after a pause] That is not nice to me, Harry.

TRENCH. You must bear with me, Blanche. I I cant explain. After all, it's very natural.

BLANCHE. Has it occurred to you that I may be proud, too?

TRENCH. Oh, thats nonsense. No one will accuse you of marrying for money.

BLANCHE. No one would think the worse of me if I did, or of you either. [She rises and begins to walk restlessly about]. We really cannot live on seven hundred a year, Harry; and I don’t think it quite fair of you to ask me merely because you’re afraid of people talking.

TRENCH. It's not that alone, Blanche.

BLANCHE. What else is it, then?

TRENCH. Nothing. I --

BLANCHE [getting behind him, and speaking with forced playfulness as she bends over him, her hands on his shoulders] Of course it's nothing. Now don’t be absurd, Harry: be good: and listen to me: I know how to settle it. You are too proud to owe anything to me ; and I am too proud to owe anything to you. You have seven hundred a year. Well, I will take just seven hundred a year from papa at first; and then we shall be quits. Now, now, Harry, you know you’ve not a word to say against that.

TRENCH. It's impossible.

BLANCHE. Impossible!

TRENCH. Yes, impossible. I have resolved not to take any money from your father.

BLANCHE. But he'll give the money to me, not to you.

TRENCH. It's the same thing. [With an effort to be sentimental] I love you too well to see any distinction. [He puts up his hand half-heartedly: she takes it over his shoulder with equal indecision. They are both trying hard to conciliate one another].

BLANCHE. That’s a very nice way of putting it, Harry; but I'm sure there’s something I ought to know. Has papa been disagreeable?

TRENCH. No: he has been very kind to me, at least. It's not that. It's nothing you can guess, Blanche. It would only pain you perhaps offend you. I don’t mean, of course, that we shall live always on seven hundred a year. I intend to go at my profession in earnest, and work my fingers to the bone.

BLANCHE [playing with his fingers, still over his shoulder] But I shouldn’t like you with your fingers worked to the bone, Harry. I must be told what the matter is. [He takes his hand quickly away: she flushes angrily; and her voice is no longer even an imitation of the voice of a lady as she exclaims] I hate secrets; and I don’t like to be treated as if I were a child.

TRENCH [annoyed by her tone] There’s nothing to tell. I don’t choose to trespass on your father's generosity: that’s all.

BLANCHE. You had no objection half an hour ago, when you met me in the hall, and shewed me all the letters. Your family doesn’t object. Do you object?

TRENCH [earnestly'] I do not indeed. It's only a question of money.

BLANCHE [imploringly, the voice softening and refining for the last time] Harry: there’s no use in our fencing in this way. Papa will never consent to my being absolutely dependent on you: and I don’t like the idea of it myself. If you even mention such a thing to him you will break off the match: you will indeed.

TRENCH [obstinately'] I can’t help that.

BLANCHE [white with rage] You can’t help! Oh, I'm beginning to understand. I will save you the trouble. You can tell papa that / have broken off the match; and then there will be no further difficulty.

TRENCH [taken aback] What do you mean, Blanche? Are you offended?

BLANCHE. Offended ! How dare you ask me?

TRENCH. Dare!

BLANCHE. How much more manly it would have been to confess that you were trifling with me that time on the Rhine ! Why did you come here to-day ? Why did you write to your people?

TRENCH. Well, Blanche, if you are going to lose your temper --

BLANCHE. That’s no answer. You depended on your family to get you out of your engagement ; and they did not object : they were only too glad to be rid of you. You were not mean enough to stay away, and not manly enough to tell the truth. You thought you could provoke me to break the engagement: that’s so like a man to try to put the woman in the wrong. Well, you have your way: I release you. I wish you’d opened my eyes by downright brutality by striking me by anything rather than shuffling as you have done.

TRENCH [hotly] Shuffle! If I'd thought you capable of turning on me like this, I'd never have spoken to you. I’ve a good mind never to speak to you again.

BLANCHE. You shall not not ever. I will take care of that [going to the door]

TRENCH [alarmed] What are you going to do?

BLANCHE. To get your letters your false letters, and your presents your hateful presents, to return them to you.

Shaw, George Bernard. Widowers’ Houses: a play. https://archive.org/stream/widowershousespl00shawuoft/widowershousespl00shawuoft_djvu.txt. Retrieved January 28, 2019.