(_Pouring forth the words in a torrent of passionate entreaty. LADY PATRICIA stands staring at him first in bewilderment, then in amazement, then in dawning comprehension, finally in arctic realisation._) It was cruel of them—it was unfair to steal a march on me like this. For your sake—for mine—they should have left the confession to me. I would have withheld nothing. I would have told you all of my own free will. But they’ve spoken. And I see it—they’ve put the vilest construction on the few words they overheard last night. They have made you believe the worst of me. But it’s not true, Patricia. I swear it. It’s not true. (_LADY PATRICIA makes a gesture as though to speak._) No, no, let _me_ speak!... I have been faithful to the letter of our marriage vow—I have been unfaithful to the spirit. I am a man with a man’s passions, but for your sake I fought and kept my sinful love pure. Doubt all else—but believe that. You must believe it. You shall.... I am not trying to excuse myself. There is no excuse for what I have done. But O, Patricia, you know that to love and not to love isn’t in our control. And if I never loved you with all the passion I pretended ... I’m really deeply attached to you. It was for your sake I pretended. I felt it might kill you should you ever dream that your wonderful love was not returned in full ... that I loved ... elsewhere. LADY PATRICIA. (_In a cold, level voice._) What are you talking about? MICHAEL. (_Floored._) Eh ...? LADY PATRICIA. You appear to be under the impression that the Dean and Aunt Eileen have told me something unpleasant about you. MICHAEL. Well, haven’t they? LADY PATRICIA. They have told me nothing. MICHAEL. Oh.... I—I thought they had.... LADY PATRICIA. And now perhaps you will kindly explain the meaning of all this. MICHAEL. I—I’ve told you everything. LADY PATRICIA. Who is the woman? MICHAEL. Clare Lesley. LADY PATRICIA. Clare—Lesley!... I don’t believe it—it’s impossible. I don’t believe it!... (_MICHAEL is silent._) Do you mean to tell me that you don’t adore me? MICHAEL. I’m—I’m very fond of you. LADY PATRICIA. Fond of me? Then all your passion has been a sham, and you’ve been making love to that—that—oh, what is the horrible word?... MICHAEL. (_Deferentially._) Er—impossible ...? LADY PATRICIA. No—no ... with two “p’s.” ... MICHAEL. Appalling ...? LADY PATRICIA. No.... Flapper.... Oh, how I’ve been fooled! And they know it—the Dean and Aunt Eileen. You’ve made me a figure of fun—something to point and jeer at.... Oh, I could kill myself and—you! MICHAEL. I am not worthy to live. LADY PATRICIA. And to think of all I have gone through for your sake—how I’ve forced myself to take your kisses and return them—how for months and months I fought and struggled to keep down the one great passion of my life. All for your sake—all because I thought you loved me! Oh, the bitter irony of it! MICHAEL. What do you mean by this? LADY PATRICIA.