You must. Don't think I'm going to reproach you. I take all the blame on myself. What if I were to tell you that you've made a convert to your principles where you least expected it? MRS. SYLVESTER. What do you mean? SYLVESTER. That it's best for us both to put an end to this farce that we're living. I mean, that I love another woman. MRS. SYLVESTER [_rising_]. You! SYLVESTER. Perhaps that seems to you impossible. You thought, perhaps, that I was dull and stupid enough to go on with this empty life of ours to the end. I thought so too, but I was wrong. I love this woman, and I've told her so---- MRS. SYLVESTER [_with jealousy_]. Who is she? SYLVESTER. And I would tell her husband to his face MRS. SYLVESTER. Then she is married? SYLVESTER. As I tell _you._ MRS. SYLVESTER. Who is she, I say? SYLVESTER. Margery. MRS. SYLVESTER. Margery! Are you all mad, you men? What is it in that woman that enslaves you? What is the charm we others don't possess? Only you men can see it; and you all do! You lose your senses, every one of you! What is it in her that bewitches you? SYLVESTER. What you've crushed out of yourself--your womanhood. What you're ashamed of is a woman's glory. Philosophy is well enough in boots; but in a woman a man wants flesh and blood--frank human nature! MRS. SYLVESTER [_laughing, hysterically_]. A mere animal! SYLVESTER. A woman. MRS. SYLVESTER. Well, you have found one. SYLVESTER. Yes. MRS. SYLVESTER. Take her, then! go your way! SYLVESTER. I will. [_Exit, C._ MRS. SYLVESTER. This world was made for such as you and her! _Re-enter MARGERY, R., cloaked._ We have no place in it--we who love with our brains! we have no chance of happiness! MARGERY. What chance have we? we, who love with our hearts! we, who are simply what God made us--women! we, to whom love is not a cult--a problem, but just as vital as the air we breathe. Take love away from us, and you take life itself. You have your books, your sciences, your brains! What have we?--nothing but our broken hearts! MRS. SYLVESTER. Broken hearts heal! The things that _you_ call hearts! One love is dead, another takes its place; one man is lost, another man is found. What is the difference to a love like yours? Oh, there are always men for such women as you! _By degrees re-enter omnes, R., L., and C., gradually, except GERALD._ MARGERY. But if the love is not dead? if it's stolen? what is our lot then--ours, whose love's alive? We, who're not skilled to steal--who only want our own---- MRS. SYLVESTER. Not skilled to steal! have you not stolen mine? MARGERY. I have one husband, and I want no other! [_Murmurs._ LADY WARGRAVE [_restraining her_]. Calm yourself, dear! MARGERY. I have been calm too long! LADY WARGRAVE. Remember, you are my niece. MARGERY.