George [still in tears] If I had led a wild life and spent my time in bars and going about with women, I should understand: I should say I deserved it.
Doctor. No.
GEORGE. No?
Doctor. No. You would not say so: but it doesn’t matter. Go on.
George. Yes, I know I should. I should say I deserved it. But for nothing! nothing! I have cut myself off from all pleasures. I have resisted attractions as you would the devil. I wouldn’t go with my friends to places of amusement: ladies I knew actually pointed me out to their boys as an example. I stuck to my work: I forced myself to be more regular in my habits. Why, my two friends helped me to prepare for my law exams. I taught them to make me cram, and it’s thanks to them that I got through. Oh, I should have liked to come home at four o’clock in the morning with my coat-collar turned up, smoking a cigar lit in some ballet-girl’s rooms! I’ve longed as much as anyone for the taste of rouged lips and the glitter of blacked eyes and pale faces! I should have liked larks and jolly suppers and champagne and the rustle of lace and all the rest of it! I’ve sacrificed all that to my health, and see what I’ve got for it. Ah, if I had known! If I had only known! Then I should have let myself go; yes, altogether! That would have been something to the good, anyway! When I think of it! When I think of the beastliness, the frightful horrors in store for me!
Doctor. What’s all that nonsense?
George. Yes, yes, I know—hair falling out, camomile for a cocktail, and a bath chair for a motor car with a little handle for the steering wheel and a fellow shoving behind instead of the engine; and I shall go, Gug, gug, gug, gug! [Crying] That’s what will be left of handsome Raoul—that’s what they called me, handsome Raoul!
Doctor. My dear sir, kindly dry your eyes for the last time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief in your pocket, and listen to me without blubbering.
George [doing so] Yes, doctor; but I warn you, you are wasting your time.
Doctor. I assure you—