Margaret. Ah, but I kept the rough drafts of them all.
Gilbert. Rough drafts?
Margaret. Yes.
Gilbert. Rough drafts ...! Of those letters to me that seemed to be dashed off in quivering haste? "Just one word more, dearest, before I sleep—my eyes are closing already ..." and then, when your eyes had quite closed, you wrote me off a fair copy?
Margaret. Well, have you anything to complain of?
Gilbert. I might have suspected it. I suppose I ought to congratulate myself that they weren't borrowed from a Lover's Manual. Oh, how everything crumbles around me ... the whole past is in ruins! She kept rough drafts of her letters!
Margaret. You ought to be glad. Who knows whether my letters to you will not be the only thing people will remember about you?
Gilbert. But it's an extremely awkward situation for another reason ...
Margaret. What is that?
Gilbert (points to his book). You see, they're all in there too.