On the surface my marriage has been perfect. Michael is the husband of old romance, steel-true, chivalrous, and devoted—oh! as no man was ever devoted to a woman before! (_MRS. O’FARREL and the DEAN exchange significant glances._) But he just lacked what the depths of my complex nature cried out for—passion, simplicity, primeval energy. These he hadn’t in him to give, and I wanted them, not knowing at first what I wanted.... But when Bill came into my life—I knew—I knew ... and we rushed together, drawn by the mystic gravitation of alien soul for soul. MRS. O’FARREL. A moment, Patricia. I understand that my son has “primeval energy.” I’ve never noticed it myself. What are its manifestations? DEAN. Don’t you think we can leave that to—er—the imagination? MRS. O’FARREL. Oh ... by all means! Then what do you mean by “rushing together”? LADY PATRICIA. I use the expression metaphorically ... spiritually. (_With sudden drama._) Dean—Aunt Eileen—I swear to you by all that is beautiful and sacred that our love has been pure. You believe me? Ah, say you believe me! DEAN. Why, of course we do! MRS. O’FARREL. If you swore to the contrary, I should call you a liar! You’ve neither the strength nor the courage to do more than play with sin. LADY PATRICIA. I? I! Oh, how little you know me! Had you looked into my heart when first this temptation stole upon me you would have never said anything so foolish.... Shall I ever forget those long nights of battle when my skin was dry and fevered—my pillow wet with tears? I lived with clenched hands and bitten lip, and fixed my thoughts steadfastly on high and holy things. Yes, I fought the good fight well—and if I was half defeated ... I am but human.... At last it came—the day came when I lost the battle.... Spring was in the air, sweet perfumes of budding and burgeoning things ... above my head a blackbird fluted ... I had an early snowdrop in my hand. He looked at me; I felt his eyes devouring my face. Slowly I lifted mine—our eyes met—and no force on earth could have torn them apart; and the world reeled and sang about us—— _Oh, and that bluer blue, that greener green!..._ MRS. O’FARREL. That bluer blue—that——? LADY PATRICIA. Stephen Phillips.... Ah, that moment! I was mad—I was drunk with love and spring! DEAN Well? AND (_Excitedly interested._) MRS. O’FARREL. Yes? LADY PATRICIA. Fate intervened and saved us. MRS. O’FARREL AND DEAN. (_Unfeignedly disappointed._) Fate? LADY PATRICIA. Baldwin returned with the water. DEAN AND MRS. O’FARREL. The water? LADY PATRICIA. For the snowdrop. (_The DEAN coughs. MRS. O’FARREL solemnly scrutinises PATRICIA through her lorgnette._) MRS. O’FARREL. Doesn’t it occur to you that was rather funny? LADY PATRICIA.