[He draws a big breath.]

John.  No, I never had that.

Maggie.  It’s every man’s birthright, and you would have it now but for me.

John.  I can do without, Maggie.

Maggie.  It’s like missing out all the Saturdays.

John.  You feel sure, I suppose, that an older man wouldn’t suit you better, Maggie?

Maggie.  I couldn’t feel surer of anything.  You’re just my ideal.

John.  Yes, yes.  Well, that’s as it should be.

[She threatens him again.]

Maggie.  David has the document.  It’s carefully locked away.

John.  He would naturally take good care of it.

[The pride of the Wylies deserts her.]

Maggie.  John, I make you a solemn promise that, in consideration of the circumstances of our marriage, if you should ever fall in love I’ll act differently from other wives.

John.  There will be no occasion, Maggie.

[Her voice becomes tremulous.]

Maggie.  John, David doesn’t have the document.  He thinks he has, but
I have it here.

[Somewhat heavily John surveys the fatal paper.]

John.  Well do I mind the look of it, Maggie.  Yes, yes, that’s it. 
Umpha.

Maggie.  You don’t ask why I’ve brought it.

John.  Why did you?

Maggie.  Because I thought I might perhaps have the courage and the womanliness to give it back to you. [John has a brief dream.] Will you never hold it up against me in the future that I couldn’t do that?

John.  I promise you, Maggie, I never will.

Maggie.  To go back to The Pans and take up my old life there, when all these six years my eyes have been centred on this night!  I’ve been waiting for this night as long as you have been; and now to go back there, and wizen and dry up, when I might be married to John Shand!

John.  And you will be, Maggie.  You have my word.

Maggie.  Never—­never—­never. [She tears up the document.  He remains seated immovable, but the gleam returns to his eye.  She rages first at herself and then at him.] I’m a fool, a fool, to let you go.  I tell you, you’ll rue this day, for you need me, you’ll come to grief without me.  There’s nobody can help you as I could have helped you.  I’m essential to your career, and you’re blind not to see it.

John.  What’s that, Maggie?  In no circumstances would I allow any meddling with my career.

Maggie.  You would never have known I was meddling with it.  But that’s over.  Don’t be in too great a hurry to marry, John.  Have your fling with the beautiful dolls first.  Get the whiphand of the haughty ones, John.  Give them their licks.  Every time they hiccough let them have an extra slap in memory of me.  And be sure to remember this, my man, that the one who marries you will find you out.