not to marry you because he intends to marry you himself? Ann Alarmed. No no: you mustn’t lead him to believe that I said that: I don’t for a moment think that Jack knows his own mind. But it’s clear from my father’s will that he wished me to marry Jack. And my mother is set on it. Octavius But you are not bound to sacrifice yourself always to the wishes of your parents. Ann My father loved me. My mother loves me. Surely their wishes are a better guide than my own selfishness. Octavius Oh, I know how unselfish you are, Ann. But believe me⁠—though I know I am speaking in my own interest⁠—there is another side to this question. Is it fair to Jack to marry him if you do not love him? Is it fair to destroy my happiness as well as your own if you can bring yourself to love me? Ann Looking at him with a faint impulse of pity. Tavy, my dear, you are a nice creature⁠—a good boy. Octavius Humiliated. Is that all? Ann Mischievously in spite of her pity. That’s a great deal, I assure you. You would always worship the ground I trod on, wouldn’t you? Octavius I do. It sounds ridiculous; but it’s no exaggeration. I do; and I always shall. Ann Always is a long word, Tavy. You see, I shall have to live up always to your idea of my divinity; and I don’t think I could do that if we were married. But if I marry Jack, you’ll never be disillusioned⁠—at least not until I grow too old. Octavius I too shall grow old, Ann. And when I am eighty, one white hair of the woman I love will make me tremble more than the thickest gold tress from the most beautiful young head. Ann Quite touched. Oh, that’s poetry, Tavy, real poetry. It gives me that strange sudden sense of an echo from a former existence which always seems to me such a striking proof that we have immortal souls. Octavius Do you believe that is true? Ann Tavy, if it is to become true you must lose me as well as love me. Octavius Oh! He hastily sits down at the little table and covers his face with his hands. Ann With conviction. Tavy: I wouldn’t for worlds destroy your illusions. I can neither take you nor let you go. I can see exactly what will suit you. You must be a sentimental old bachelor for my sake. Octavius Desperately. Ann: I’ll kill myself. Ann Oh no you won’t: that wouldn’t be kind. You won’t have a bad time. You will be very nice to women; and you will go a good deal to the opera. A broken heart is a very pleasant complaint for a man in London if he has a comfortable income. Octavius Considerably cooled, but believing that he is only recovering his self-control. I know you mean to be kind, Ann. Jack has persuaded you that cynicism is a good tonic for me. He rises with quiet dignity. Ann Studying him slyly. You see, I’m disillusionizing you already. That’s what I dread. Octavius You do not dread disillusionizing Jack. Ann Her face lighting up with mischievous ecstasy⁠—whispering. I can’t: he has no illusions about me. I shall surprise Jack the other way. Getting over an unfavorable impression is ever so much easier than living up to an ideal. Oh, I shall enrapture Jack sometimes! Octavius Resuming the calm phase of despair, and beginning to enjoy his broken heart and delicate attitude without knowing it. I don’t doubt that. You will enrapture him always. And he⁠—the fool!⁠—thinks you would make him wretched. Ann Yes: that’s the difficulty, so far. Octavius Heroically. Shall I tell him that you love him? Ann Quickly. Oh no: he’d run away again. Octavius Shocked. Ann: would you marry an unwilling man? Ann What a queer creature you are, Tavy! There’s no such thing as a willing man when you really go for him. She laughs naughtily. I’m shocking you, I suppose. But you know you are really getting a sort of satisfaction already in being out of danger yourself. Octavius Startled. Satisfaction! Reproachfully. You say that to me! Ann Well, if it were really agony, would you ask for more of it? Octavius Have I asked for more of it? Ann You have offered to tell Jack that I love him. That’s self-sacrifice, I suppose; but there must be some satisfaction in it. Perhaps it’s because you’re a poet. You are like the bird that presses its breast against the sharp thorn to make itself sing. Octavius It’s quite simple. I love you; and I want you to be happy. You don’t love me; so I can’t make you happy myself; but I can help another man to do it. Ann Yes: it seems quite simple. But I doubt if we ever know why we do things. The only really simple thing is to go straight for what you want and grab it. I suppose I don’t love you, Tavy; but sometimes I feel as if I should like to make a man of you somehow. You are very foolish about women. Octavius Almost coldly. I am content to be what I am in that respect. Ann Then you must keep away from them, and only dream about them. I wouldn’t marry you for worlds, Tavy. Octavius I have no hope, Ann: I accept my ill luck. But I don’t think you quite know how much it hurts. Ann You are so softhearted! It’s queer that you should be so different from Violet. Violet’s as hard as nails. Octavius Oh no. I am sure Violet is thoroughly womanly at heart. Ann With some impatience. Why do you say that? Is it unwomanly to be thoughtful and businesslike and sensible? Do you want Violet to be an idiot⁠—or something worse, like me? Octavius Something worse⁠—like you! What do you mean, Ann? Ann Oh well, I don’t mean that, of course. But I have a great respect for Violet.