know, Mabel, whether you have noticed that I am not like other men.
(He goes deeply into the very structure of his being.) All my life I
have been a soul that has had to walk alone. Even as a child I had no
hope that it would be otherwise. I distinctly remember when I was six
thinking how unlike other children I was. Before I was twelve I
suffered from terrible self-depreciation; I do so still. I suppose
there never was a man who had a more lowly opinion of himself.

MABEL. Jack, you who are so universally admired.

PURDIE. That doesn't help; I remain my own judge. I am afraid I am a
dark spirit, Mabel. Yes, yes, my dear, let me leave nothing untold
however it may damage me in your eyes. Your eyes! I cannot remember a
time when I did not think of Love as a great consuming passion; I
visualised it, Mabel, as perhaps few have done, but always as the
abounding joy that could come to others but never to me. I expected
too much of women: I suppose I was touched to finer issues than most.
That has been my tragedy.

MABEL. Then you met Joanna.

PURDIE. Then I met Joanna. Yes! Foolishly, as I now see, I thought she
would understand that I was far too deep a nature really to mean the
little things I sometimes said to her. I suppose a man was never
placed in such a position before. What was I to do? Remember, I was
always certain that the ideal love could never come to me. Whatever
the circumstances, I was convinced that my soul must walk alone.

MABEL. Joanna, how could you.

PURDIE (firmly). Not a word against her, Mabel; if blame there is the
blame is mine.

MABEL. And so you married her.

PURDIE. And so I married her.

MABEL. Out of pity.

PURDIE. I felt it was a man's part. I was such a child in worldly
matters that it was pleasant to me to have the right to pay a woman's
bills; I enjoyed seeing her garments lying about on my chairs. In
time that exultation wore off. But I was not unhappy, I didn't expect
much, I was always so sure that no woman could ever plumb the well of
my emotions.

MABEL. Then you met me.

PURDIE. Then I met you.

MABEL. Too late--never--forever--forever--never. They are the saddest
words in the English tongue.

PURDIE. At the time I thought a still sadder word was Joanna.

MABEL. What was it you saw in me that made you love me?

PURDIE (plumbing the well of his emotions). I think it was the feeling
that you are so like myself.

MABEL (with great eyes). Have you noticed that, J