JUNO. I can't change the subject. For me there is no other
subject. Why else have you put me on your list?

MRS. LUNN. Because you're a solicitor. Gregory's a solicitor. I'm
accustomed to my husband 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