MARGARET. [facing him again] I know nothing about the Frenchman except that hes a very nice fellow and can swing his leg round like the hand of a clock and knock a policeman down with it.  He was in Wormwood Scrubbs with you.  I was in Holloway.

BOBBY.  It’s all very well to make light of it, Meg; but this is a bit thick, you know.

MARGARET.  Do you feel you couldnt marry a woman whos been in prison?

BOBBY. [hastily] No.  I never said that.  It might even give a woman a greater claim on a man.  Any girl, if she were thoughtless and a bit on, perhaps, might get into a scrape.  Anyone who really understood her character could see there was no harm in it.  But youre not the larky sort.  At least you usent to be.

MARGARET.  I’m not; and I never will be. [She walks straight up to him].  I didnt do it for a lark, Bob:  I did it out of the very depths of my nature.  I did it because I’m that sort of person.  I did it in one of my religious fits.  I’m hardened at eighteen, as they say.  So what about the match, now?

BOBBY.  Well, I dont think you can fairly hold me to it, Meg.  Of course it would be ridiculous for me to set up to be shocked, or anything of that sort.  I cant afford to throw stones at anybody; and I dont pretend to.  I can understand a lark; I can forgive a slip; as long as it is understood that it is only a lark or a slip.  But to go on the loose on principle; to talk about religion in connection with it; to—­to—­well, Meg, I do find that a bit thick, I must say.  I hope youre not in earnest when you talk that way.

MARGARET.  Bobby:  youre no good.  No good to me, anyhow.

BOBBY. [huffed] I’m sorry, Miss Knox.

MARGARET.  Goodbye, Mr Gilbey. [She turns on her heel and goes to the other end of the table].  I suppose you wont introduce me to the clergyman’s daughter.

BOBBY.  I dont think she’d like it.  There are limits, after all. [He sits down at the table, as if to to resume work at his books:  a hint to her to go].

MARGARET. [on her way to the door] Ring the bell, Bobby; and tell Juggins to shew me out.

BOBBY. [reddening] I’m not a cad, Meg.

MARGARET. [coming to the table] Then do something nice to prevent us feeling mean about this afterwards.  Youd better kiss me.  You neednt ever do it again.

BOBBY.  If I’m no good, I dont see what fun it would be for you.

MARGARET.  Oh, it’d be no fun.  If I wanted what you call fun, I should ask the Frenchman to kiss me—­or Juggins.

BOBBY. [rising and retreating to the hearth] Oh, dont be disgusting, Meg.  Dont be low.

MARGARET. [determinedly, preparing to use force] Now, I’ll make you kiss me, just to punish you. [She seizes his wrist; pulls him off his balance; and gets her arm round his neck].

BOBBY.  No.  Stop.  Leave go, will you.