e or
less is marked upon our charts? yet we grow blind peering into their
depths. Does it matter that one keel should slip through the grip of the
Polar ice? yet nearer, nearer to it, we pile our whitening bones. And
it's worth playing, the game of life. And there's a meaning in it. It's
worth playing, if only that it strengthens the muscles of our souls. I'd
like to have taken a hand in it.

MARION. Why didn't you?

DAN. No partner. Dull playing by oneself. No object.

MARION [after a silence]. What was she like?

DAN. So like you that there are times when I almost wish I had never met
you. You set me thinking about myself, and that is a subject I find it
pleasanter to forget.

MARION. And this woman that was like me--she could have made a man's
life?

DAN. Ay!

MARION. Won't you tell me about her? Had she many faults?

DAN. Enough to love her by.

MARION. But she must have been good.

DAN. Good enough to be a woman.

MARION. That might mean so much or so little.

DAN. It should mean much to my thinking. There are few women.

MARION. Few! I thought the economists held that there were too many of
us.

DAN. Not enough--not enough to go round. That is why a true woman has
many lovers.

[There is a silence between them. Then MARION rises, but their eyes do
not meet.]

MARION. How serious we have grown!

DAN. They say a dialogue between a man and woman always does.

MARION [she moves away, then, hesitating, half returns]. May I ask you a
question?

DAN. That is an easy favour to grant.

MARION. If--if at any time you felt regard again for a woman, would you,
for her sake, if she wished it, seek to gain, even now, that position in
the world which is your right--which would make her proud of your
friendship--would make her feel that even her life had not been
altogether without purpose?

DAN. Too late! The old hack can only look over the hedge, and watch the
field race by. The old ambition stirs within me at times--especially
after a glass of good wine--and Harry's wine--God bless him--is
excellent--but to-morrow morning--[with a shrug of his shoulders he
finishes his meaning].

MARION. Then she could do nothing?

DAN. Nothing for his fortunes--much for himself. My dear young lady,
never waste pity on a man in love--nor upon a child crying for the moon.
The moon is a good thing to cry for.

MARION. I am glad I am like her. I am glad that I have met you.