Then I can trust
you.
TREBELL _smiles, not at all grimly._
TREBELL. But, you see, it would give Horsham and Blackborough such a shock
if I shot myself ... it would make them think about things.
FRANCES. [_With one catch of wretched laughter._] Oh, my dear, if shooting's
wanted ... shoot them. Or I'll do it for you.
_He sits in his chair just from weariness. She stands by him, her hand
still grasping his._
TREBELL. You see, Fanny, as I said to Gilbert last night ... our lives are
our own and yet not our own. We understand living for others and dying for
others. The first is easy ... it's a way out of boredom. To make the second
popular we had to invent a belief in personal resurrection. Do you think we
shall ever understand dying in the sure and certain hope that it really
doesn't matter ... that God is infinitely economical and wastes perhaps less
of the power in us after our death than men do while we live?
FRANCES. I want your promise, Henry.
TREBELL. You know I never make promises ... it's taking oneself too
seriously. Unless indeed one has the comic courage to break them too. I've
upset you very much with my troubles. Don't you think you'd better go and
finish dressing? [_She doesn't move._] My dear ... you don't propose to hold
my right hand so safely for years to come. Even so, I still could jump out
of a window.
FRANCES.
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