Futile! I return after a year’s oblivion, thrilled and excited, longing to see all my old friends, and what do I find? Clacking shallow nonentities doing the same things, saying the same things, thinking the same things. They’re stale. They seem to have lost all wit and charm, and restraint—or perhaps they never had any. Oh dear! I’ve never felt so depressed in my life. EDWARD I hope I haven’t let you down, too. ZOE No, Edward. You’re unchanged; a little dim, perhaps. EDWARD Dim? ZOE Yes. All your vitality seems to have been snuffed out by something. I expect it’s success. That’s always frightfully undermining. EDWARD Yes, I suppose it is. ZOE Are you pleased with everything? EDWARD Naturally. ZOE I’m sorry. EDWARD Why? Oughtn’t I to be? ZOE You oughtn’t to pretend. EDWARD Pretend? ZOE Yes. You never used to—with me, anyhow. EDWARD One gets into the habit of accepting things at their surface value and not looking any deeper. ZOE It’s a bad habit. EDWARD I must pretend. Don’t you see? ZOE No. EDWARD I’m successful—prosperous. I’ve got everything I wanted. ZOE You haven’t. You’ve merely got what other people think you wanted. EDWARD [_Smiling_] You’re wonderfully stimulating, Zoe—like a breath of Brighton air. ZOE You look as if you need stimulating, badly. EDWARD I do. ZOE I’m glad I came back now. EDWARD So am I. Devoutly glad. ZOE What’s wrong? EDWARD Lots of things. ZOE Carol? EDWARD Yes. ZOE I thought so. EDWARD You were right from the first. It’s been a dreary failure. ZOE I apologize. It’s so irritating being right. EDWARD It doesn’t irritate me in the least. With anyone else it would, perhaps. But you’re different; you always have been. ZOE I know you better than most people. EDWARD I know you do. ZOE What has she been doing? EDWARD The obvious thing. ZOE I must say I consider marriage an overrated amusement. EDWARD I feel rather lost. ZOE Yes, I did, too—over Kenneth. It’s a nasty feeling. EDWARD It’s so difficult to know exactly the right attitude to adopt. ZOE Are you in love with her still? EDWARD I don’t know, really. Not violently like at first—that’s died down, naturally—but somehow—things get an awful hold on you, don’t they? ZOE Yes, fortunately for the sanctity of home life. EDWARD But the hold ought to be mutual. ZOE Quite. EDWARD I have moments of fierce rage, you know; then it evaporates, leaving a dead sort of a calm. ZOE How long have you known? EDWARD Ages, subconsciously; definitely, only a few weeks. ZOE Does she know you know? EDWARD She hasn’t the faintest suspicion. She’s always been marvelously self-assured. ZOE She’s a lovely creature—governed entirely by sex. That’s why she’s self-assured. EDWARD Will she always go on like this? ZOE I expect so. Anyhow, as long as she remains attractive—probably after. That’s the penalty of her type. EDWARD It’s beastly, isn’t it? ZOE