Shelmerdene: I wait.
The Voice: So serious!
Shelmerdene: I must go on with my dressing now. I am very late.
The Voice: A moment, please, please! You said you had been in love only once in your life. Tell me of that.
Shelmerdene: But the man’s mad! What is there to tell? It ended—it just ended! He said, you know, that love was like religion, for it must be done well or not at all.... And that’s all there is of it. He went. One can’t explain an ideal, one can only explain the failure of an ideal. One can’t describe a love-affair, one can only describe the end of a love-affair. I loved him, I lost him. And I’m still alive—and so, I suppose, is he! I wonder if he is a little softer than he was....
The Voice: And so you ended a beautiful thing because of a caprice?
Shelmerdene: Oh, for God’s sake, don’t use that horrible word—“caprice!” It is just a label given to women by half-witted men. It is the name disappointed men give to women’s constancy. No, no, never use that silly word again! Besides, it is not worthy of your pleasant voice.
The Voice: Bother my voice! And how, why, did your one real love-affair end?
Shelmerdene: We were too proud, you see. I was very young, and he would not understand. He simply would not understand!
The Voice: (Impatiently) But what is it that he would not understand? Women are always complaining of that....