You didn’t enjoy their witticisms more than I did a pesky little bluejay that made fun of me as I fished in my emerald lake.
Mrs. Ray
But surely even you would have envied me my dinner when the celebrated Mary Mevin explained her new symphony.
Professor
Nonsense, dear. Think of grilled trout caught by my own hand! And then the long lazy silent hours afterwards with Aristotle. Nice chap, Aristotle: knew a heap about men and things, though he lived in an age when there wasn’t so much to remember as there is now. Then afterwards I confess I yawned with the comfort of it all; good, deep-reaching yawns, as Nature intended. I went out to see my friends the stars. Best friends a man ever had: a bit cold and distant, perhaps; but always there behind the clouds. (She has risen and gone to the candles. There is a pause. Then she snuffs them out.) And I suppose at the same time you were trying in vain to find them out your city window? (Sees she is sobbing very quietly: the candles are out.) Why, dear! What’s the trouble?
Mrs. Ray
Oh, I can’t pretend any more. Our log fire isn’t real. Here we are all alone in a hotel apartment—before an old steam radiator and electric light. (Presses the switch again.)
Professor
(Tenderly and seriously)
I know. You left all that which might have been yours ... if ... if you hadn’t married me.