JOHN. Not in Scotsmen, Maggie; not in Scotsmen. MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us and the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but soft with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all other respects. JOHN. You’ve forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman, Maggie, that he’ll do nothing which might damage his career. MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and if you were to love, what a passion it would be. JOHN. There’s something in that, I suppose. MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now, John, is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I want you to have me, too. JOHN. We’ll get on fine, Maggie. MAGGIE. You’re just making the best of it. They say that love is sympathy, and if that’s so, mine must be a great love for you, for I see all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you as if I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.] JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie. MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that there is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the new life untrammelled? JOHN. Leave such maggots alone, Maggie. MAGGIE. It’s a shame of me not to give you up. JOHN. I would consider you a very foolish woman if you did. MAGGIE. If I were John Shand I would no more want to take Maggie Wylie with me through the beautiful door that has opened wide for you than I would want to take an old pair of shoon. Why don’t you bang the door in my face, John? [A tremor runs through JOHN.] JOHN. A bargain’s a bargain, Maggie. [MAGGIE moves about, an eerie figure, breaking into little cries. She flutters round him, threateningly.] MAGGIE. Say one word about wanting to get out of it, and I’ll put the lawyers on you. JOHN. Have I hinted at such a thing? MAGGIE. The document holds you hard and fast. JOHN. It does. [She gloats miserably.] MAGGIE. The woman never rises with the man. I’ll drag you down, John. I’ll drag you down. JOHN. Have no fear of that, I won’t let you. I’m too strong. MAGGIE. You’ll miss the prettiest thing in the world, and all owing to me. JOHN. What’s that? MAGGIE. Romance. JOHN. Poof. MAGGIE. All’s cold and grey without it, John. They that have had it have slipped in and out of heaven. JOHN. You’re exaggerating, Maggie. MAGGIE. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve had none of the fun that comes to most men long before they’re your age. JOHN. I never was one for fun. I cannot call to mind, Maggie, ever having laughed in my life. MAGGIE. You have no sense of humour. JOHN. Not a spark. MAGGIE. I’ve sometimes thought that if you had, it might make you fonder of me. I think one needs a sense of humour to be fond of me. JOHN. I remember reading of some one that said it needed a surgical operation to get a joke into a Scotsman’s head. MAGGIE. Yes, that’s been said.