WALTER. Why are you doing this?
BETTY. You've ruined my life and his. At least, _you_ shan't be happy.
WALTER. And you imagine I'll come back to _you_--that we'll go on, you and
I?
BETTY. [_Scornfully._] No--don't be afraid! You've shown yourself to me
to-day. That's all done with--finished. _His_ friend now--with the load
off you--but never _her_ husband. Never!
[HECTOR _comes bustling back, with the bottle of Hock, and a
wine-glass that he gives to_ BETTY--_she holds it, and he fills
it from the bottle._
HECTOR. Here you are, my girl--and now, where's my whiskey? [_He trots
round to the side table, finds his glass, and_ WALTER'S--_hands one to_
WALTER.] Here, Wallie--yours must be the one that's begun--I didn't have
time to touch mine! Here. [WALTER _takes it._] And forgive me, old man,
for thinking, even one minute--[_He wrings him by the hand._] Here's to
you, old friend. And Betty, to you! Oh, Lord, I just want this drink!
BETTY. [_In cold, clear tones, as she holds up her glass._] To Walter, the
Bachelor!
[_She drains her glass;_ WALTER _has his moment's hesitation; he
drinks, and with tremendous effort succeeds in composing his
face._
HECTOR. [_Gaily._] To Walter, the Bachelor! [_He drinks his glass to the
dregs and puts it down._] And now--for a game.