Juno.  Why don’t you let my wife say something?  I don’t think she ought to be thrust into the background like this.

Mrs. Lunn.  I’m sorry, I’m sure.  Please excuse me, dear.

Mrs. Juno [thoughtfully] I don’t know what to say.  I must think over it.  I have always been rather severe on this sort of thing; but when it came to the point I didn’t behave as I thought I should behave.  I didn’t intend to be wicked; but somehow or other, Nature, or whatever you choose to call it, didn’t take much notice of my intentions. [Gregory instinctively seeks her hand and presses it].  And I really did think, Tops, that I was the only woman in the world for you.

Juno [cheerfully] Oh, that’s all right, my precious.  Mrs. Lunn thought she was the only woman in the world for him.

Gregory [reflectively] So she is, in a sort of a way.

Juno [flaring up] And so is my wife.  Don’t you set up to be a better husband than I am; for you’re not.  I’ve owned I’m wrong.  You haven’t.

Mrs. Lunn.  Are you sorry, Gregory?

Gregory [perplexed] Sorry?

Mrs. Lunn.  Yes, sorry.  I think it’s time for you to say you’re sorry, and to make friends with Mr. Juno before we all dine together.

Gregory.  Seraphita:  I promised my mother—­

Mrs. Juno [involuntarily] Oh, bother your mother! [Recovering herself] I beg your pardon.

Gregory.  A promise is a promise.  I can’t tell a deliberate lie.  I know I ought to be sorry; but the flat fact is that I’m not sorry.  I find that in this business, somehow or other, there is a disastrous separation between my moral principles and my conduct.

Juno.  There’s nothing disastrous about it.  It doesn’t matter about your principles if your conduct is all right.

Gregory.  Bosh!  It doesn’t matter about your principles if your conduct is all right.

Juno.  But your conduct isn’t all right; and my principles are.

Gregory.  What’s the good of your principles being right if they won’t work?

Juno.  They will work, sir, if you exercise self-sacrifice.

Gregory.  Oh yes:  if, if, if.  You know jolly well that self-sacrifice doesn’t work either when you really want a thing.  How much have you sacrificed yourself, pray?

Mrs. Lunn.  Oh, a great deal, Gregory.  Don’t be rude.  Mr. Juno is a very nice man:  he has been most attentive to me on the voyage.

Gregory.  And Mrs. Juno’s a very nice woman.  She oughtn’t to be; but she is.

Juno.  Why oughtn’t she to be a nice woman, pray?

Gregory.  I mean she oughtn’t to be nice to me.  And you oughtn’t to be nice to my wife.  And your wife oughtn’t to like me.  And my wife oughtn’t to like you.  And if they do, they oughtn’t to go on liking us.  And I oughtn’t to like your wife; and you oughtn’t to like mine; and if we do we oughtn’t to go on liking them.  But we do, all of us.  We oughtn’t; but we do.