You have the worst form of the great malady of
the age, conscience in the agnostic form. You suffer from the new
hysteria.
Mrs. Denham.
I am not hysterical.
Denham.
Pardon me, we are all hysterical nowadays. We have lost our
self-possession. You don't kick on the hearthrug and that kind of
thing. A bucket of cold water is not "indicated" in your case.
Mrs. Denham.
It seems to me you are always throwing buckets of cold water over
me.
Denham.
For heaven's sake, go and reform the world! That is the modern
woman's true vocation--and cure. Denounce our sensuality and
selfishness from the platform, as well as from the hearth. They are
the defects of our qualities. If you don't like us as we are, mould
us.
Mrs. Denham.
(_approaching_) That is what we are trying to do.
Denham.
Yes. You have not mastered your material yet. Your technique is a
little crude. (_He resumes his seat in the armchair, and puts down
his pipe as she comes._)
Mrs. Denham.
(_kneeling beside him_) Why will you push me away from you, Arthur?
You know I only want to be your wife. You are always implying that
our marriage is a failure.
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