Pray come in, Mrs. Sylvester. You know my aunt.
Yes, at my nephew's chambers. I remember perfectly. You were engaged upon some work or other.
It's not finished yet. I am so interrupted!
[_Glancing at MARGERY who has crept down behind COLONEL._
[_COLONEL starts guiltily; MARGERY roars._
And are you satisfied with what you have done?
It is not enough for me that a work of my nephew's should be interesting! Tell me, as far as you have gone, do you think it is worthy of a Cazenove?
As far as you have gone. But what is to be the end of it?
We don't know what the end will be ourselves.
There I have the advantage. If I can help in any way, my experience is always at your service. Meanwhile, I fear I am another interruption. Theodore, your arm!
Come, let us get to work. I've done hardly anything today. It's first one interruption, then another.
[_Sits with his head between his hands, staring at vacancy; MRS. SYLVESTER watching him sympathetically._
MRS. SYLVESTER [_comes and kneels by him_].
Gerald! [_He starts slightly._] You are not happy. You have realized the truth.
Your marriage was a mistake from the beginning.
Not from the beginning. It started right enough, but somehow it has taken the wrong turn.
It was wrong from the first. Mine was the true ideal. The thing that you thought love was a mere passion--an intoxication. Now you have come back to your better self you feel the need of sympathy.
No, no; my love was real enough, and I love Margery still; but love doesn't seem to bear the wear and tear of marriage--the hourly friction--the continual jar.
There is no friction in true marriage, Gerald. You say you love your wife, and it is good and loyal of you to deceive yourself; but you can't deceive me. Haven't I made the same mistake myself? I was a thoughtless, inexperienced girl, Jack was a handsome, easy-going man. We married, and for a year or two we jogged along. But I grew up--the girl became a woman. I read, I thought, I felt; my life enlarged. Jack never reads, never thinks--he is just the same. [_Rising._] I am not unhappy, but my soul is starved--[_goes to mantelpiece and stands looking at him_]--as yours is!
[_Pause. MARGERY'S face appears between the curtains at the back, wearing a broad smile. She grimaces at them, unobserved, and remains there; then looks at GERALD with a long face of mock sympathy._