_Isabel_. Of remembering how you like your tea. _Oberville (with a change of tone)_. Since you call it a duty--I may remind you that it’s one I have never asked any one else to perform. _Isabel_. As a duty! But as a pleasure? _Oberville_. Do you really want to know? _Isabel_. Oh, I don’t require and charge you. _Oberville_. You dislike as much as ever having the _i_‘s dotted? _Isabel_. With a handwriting I know as well as yours! _Oberville (recovering his lightness of manner)_. Accomplished woman! (_He examines her approvingly_.) I’d no idea that you were here. I never was more surprised. _Isabel_. I hope you like being surprised. To my mind it’s an overrated pleasure. _Oberville_. Is it? I’m sorry to hear that. _Isabel_. Why? Have you a surprise to dispose of? _Oberville_. I’m not sure that I haven’t. _Isabel_. Don’t part with it too hastily. It may improve by being kept. _Oberville (tentatively)_. Does that mean that you don’t want it? _Isabel_. Heaven forbid! I want everything I can get. _Oberville_. And you get everything you want. At least you used to. _Isabel_. Let us talk of your surprise. _Oberville_. It’s to be yours, you know. (_A pause. He speaks gravely_.) I find that I’ve never got over having lost you. _Isabel (also gravely)_. And is that a surprise--to you too? _Oberville_. Honestly--yes. I thought I’d crammed my life full. I didn’t know there was a cranny left anywhere. At first, you know, I stuffed in everything I could lay my hands on--there was such a big void to fill. And after all I haven’t filled it. I felt that the moment I saw you. (_A pause_.) I’m talking stupidly. _Isabel_. It would be odious if you were eloquent. _Oberville_. What do you mean? _Isabel_. That’s a question you never used to ask me. _Oberville_. Be merciful. Remember how little practise I’ve had lately. _Isabel_. In what? _Oberville_. Never mind! (_He rises and walks away; then comes back and stands in front of her_.) What a fool I was to give you up! _Isabel_. Oh, don’t say that! I’ve lived on it! _Oberville_. On my letting you go? _Isabel_. On your letting everything go--but the right. _Oberville_. Oh, hang the right! What is truth? We had the right to be happy! _Isabel (with rising emotion)_. I used to think so sometimes. _Oberville_. Did you? Triple fool that I was! _Isabel_. But you showed me-- _Oberville_. Why, good God, we belonged to each other--and I let you go! It’s fabulous. I’ve fought for things since that weren’t worth a crooked sixpence; fought as well as other men. And you--you--I lost you because I couldn’t face a scene! Hang it, suppose there’d been a dozen scenes--I might have survived them. Men have been known to. They’re not necessarily fatal. _Isabel_. A scene? _Oberville_. It’s a form of fear that women don’t understand. How you must have despised me! _Isabel_. You were--afraid--of a scene? _Oberville_. I was a damned coward, Isabel. That’s about the size of it.