MARGARET (_beginning slowly in recollection_): A man I was doing some work for asked me to join a walking party in the Lakes. We started all together. Half-way through, he and I branched off to walk across a pass and meet the others on the other side. I don’t know whether he meant to meet them. I meant to. But we didn’t. GWEN: What sort of a man was he? MARGARET: An enthusiast about freedom. GWEN: How old? MARGARET: About thirty. We walked among mountains and talked a great deal, and when it was getting dark, we reached an inn. And there we had dinner, and there we stopped. GWEN: Did you love him very much? MARGARET: No. I was curious. GWEN: Yes. MARGARET: It’s queer. We hadn’t got love, which nowadays seems to me the only justification--yet I’ve never had any regrets. FRANKIE: Haven’t you? MARGARET: We were full of air and sky, and ideas for making the world better; probably very silly, but quite genuine. And he was very gentle and understanding. FRANKIE: What happened when you _did_ meet the others? MARGARET: We didn’t. We walked in the other direction for a week. Then we came back to London. FRANKIE: And then? MARGARET: Then he fell in love with another girl. I daresay he taught her what he taught me. That seems to be his mission in life! FRANKIE (_indignant_): That’s what always happens--weren’t you furious and ashamed? MARGARET: I was awfully pleased with myself! I was living in a boarding-house in Bloomsbury. I couldn’t afford a room of my own, or to go out in the evenings. I used to have to sit in the drawing-room with a lot of old spinster ladies, knitting and playing patience and talking scandal. Before the Lakes, I used to think I should go mad, sometimes; but afterwards, when I looked round at them all, there was a sort of triumphant glee in me. I used to say to myself, “I know more about life than you do. Poor old things!” GWEN: That must have been topping. MARGARET: It was rather. GWEN: ... Who was the next? MARGARET: I fell in love; so it’s not easy to talk about. I lived with him. For three years. The best time of my life. That’s all. GWEN: D’you mind my asking? MARGARET: Of course not. Most people like talking about themselves. GWEN: Why didn’t you marry? MARGARET (_painfully_): We meant to get married ... when we could afford children. And then I ended it. FRANKIE: You? GWEN: How? MARGARET: At least it was my fault. My man was away; and a boy fell in love with me; it was in the middle of the war when it seemed it would go on for ever. We met at a friend’s house; he was in khaki; at a house party. And then he came to have tea with me at my flat. GWEN: Were you in love with _him_?