17.
Gil: At that time you pictured it so; or, at all events, that
is what you called it. To be sure, a post is forced to
take every sort of licence for the sake of the verse, in
order to sustain the rythm. Did'nt I once apostrephise
you in a sonnet as "my eanny lass--? In point of fact, you
were neither--no, I don't want to be unfair--you were
canny, shamefully canny, perversely canny. And it suites
you perfectly. Well, I suppose I ought really to wonder
at you. You were at all times a snob. And, by Jove'.
You've attained your end. You have decoyed your blue-
blooded boy with his well-manicured hands and his unman-
ieured brain. Your matchless horeseman, fencer, marksman,
tennis-ployer, heart-trifier--Marlitt could not have
invented him more revolting than he actually is. Yes, what
more do you wish? Whather he will satisfy you--you who
are acquainted with something nobler is of course another
question. I can only say that, in my view, you are degen-
erate in love.
That must have struck you on the train.
Marg:
Gil: Not at all. It struck me this very moment.
Marg: Maise a note of it them; it's an apt phase.
Gil: I've another quite as apt. Formerly you were a woman, now
you're a "aweet thing". Yes, that's it. What fttracted
you to a man of that type? passion-frank and filthy
passion--
Marg-XXStopi You have a motivo –
Gil: My dear, I still can lay claim to the possession of a soul.
Marg: Except new and then.
Please don't try to disparage our former relations. It's
G11:
no use. They are the noblest experiences you've ever had.
Marg: Heavens, when I think that I endured this twaddle for one
whole year I--
Gil: Indure? You were intexicated with joy. Don't try to be
ungrateful. I'm not. Admtting that youbbehaved never
xxecrably at the end, yet I can't bring myself to look