Denham.
Indeed. Have you found that in Gyp?
Denham.
No, not directly; though Gyp fills me with thoughts that do often
lie too deep for tears. Her cynicism is always illuminating.
Mrs. Denham.
I wish I could say the same of yours. But why three, and not a
dozen?
Denham.
There are only three possible women in the world, the Divine
Mistress--
Mrs. Denham.
And the "Divine Matron"--I have heard this sickening cant before.
Denham.
Cant? Philosophy! But don't forget the third, The Divine
Virgin--Womanhood fashioning itself independently after its own
ideal. She has driven us, naked and ashamed, into the desert of
disillusion.
Mrs. Denham.
Truth, truth--let me have truth, though it kill me! Men are cowards;
they dare not face the naked facts of life.
Denham.
Men are poets. Facts are but the crude stuff of life. Imagination is
all.
Mrs. Denham.
Oh, if you want romance, had you not better go and look for your
Divine Mistress? Perhaps you may find some ugly truths in her too.
Denham.
(_laughing_) One woman is surely enough for the purposes of
disillusion. It is too late to begin sowing one's wild oats.
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