ISABEL. Then he lied….
MRS. FALCINGTON. Oh, yes—of course. He just can't help it. Any more than he can help making love——
ISABEL. You mean this is not the first——
MRS. FALCINGTON. In the seven years of our marriage, he has made love to every pretty woman he came across.
ISABEL. (sharply) Why did you stand for it?
MRS. FALCINGTON. Because I was a fool. And because he is a child.
ISABEL. (almost pleadingly) He can write poetry, can't he?
MRS. FALCINGTON. Yes. Yes! Oh, yes!
ISABEL. Then—I suppose—it's all right. But I'm angry at myself, just the same, for being taken in.
MRS. FALCINGTON. It's strange…. You feel humiliated at having been made a fool of for seven days. I've been made a fool of for seven years, and I've never realized that I had a right to feel ashamed.