sband being a solicitor and telling me things he
oughtn't to tell anybody.

JUNO [ruefully] Is that all? Oh, I can't believe that the voice of love
has ever thoroughly awakened you.

MRS. LUNN. No: it sends me to sleep. [Juno appeals against this by an
amorous demonstration]. It's no use, Mr. Juno: I'm hopelessly
respectable: the Jenkinses always were. Don't you realize that unless
most women were like that, the world couldn't go on as it does?

JUNO [darkly] You think it goes on respectably; but I can tell you as a
solicitor--

MRS. LUNN. Stuff! of course all the disreputable people who get into
trouble go to you, just as all the sick people go to the doctors; but
most people never go to a solicitor.

JUNO [rising, with a growing sense of injury] Look here, Mrs. Lunn: do
you think a man's heart is a potato? or a turnip? or a ball of knitting
wool? that you can throw it away like this?

MRS. LUNN. I don't throw away balls of knitting wool. A man's heart
seems to me much like a sponge: it sops up dirty water as well as clean.

JUNO. I have never been treated like this in my life. Here am I, a
married man, with a most attractive wife: a wife I adore, and who
adores me, and has never as much as looked at any other man since we
were married. I come and throw all this at your feet. I! I, a
solicitor! braving the risk of your husband putting me into the divorce
court and making me a beggar and an outcast! I do this for your sake.
And you go on as if I were making no sacrifice: as if I had told you
it's a fine evening, or asked you to have a cup of tea. It's not human.
It's not right. Love has its rights as well as respectability [he sits
down again, aloof and sulky].

MRS. LUNN. Nonsense! Here, here's a flower [she gives him one]. Go and
dream over it until you feel hungry. Nothing brings people to their
senses like hunger.

JUNO [contemplating the flower without rapture] What good's this?

MRS. LUNN [snatching it from him] Oh! you don't love me a bit.

JUNO. Yes I do. Or at least I did. But I'm an Englishman; and I think
you ought to respect the conventions of English life.

MRS. LUNN. But I am respecting them; and you're not.

JUNO. Pardon me. I may be doing wrong; but I'm doing it in a proper and
customary manner. You may be doing right; but you're doing it in an
unusual and questionable manner. I am not prepared to put up with that.
I can stand being badly treated: I'm no baby, and can take care of
myself