PURDIE (shivering). Something we are born with.

JOANNA. Can't we cut out the beastly thing?

PURDIE. Depends, I expect, on how long we have pampered him. We can at
least control him if we try hard enough. But I have for the moment an
abominably clear perception that the likes of me never really tries.
Forgive me, Joanna--no, Mabel--both of you. (He is a shamed
man.) It isn't very pleasant to discover that one is a rotter. I
suppose I shall get used to it.

JOANNA. I could forgive anybody anything to-night. (Candidly.) It is
so lovely not to be married to you, Jack.

PURDIE (spiritless). I can understand that. I do feel small.

JOANNA (the true friend). You will soon swell up again.

PURDIE (for whom, alas, we need not weep). That is the appalling
thing. But at present, at any rate, I am a rag at your feet,
Joanna--no, at yours, Mabel. Are you going to pick me up? I don't
advise it.

MABEL. I don't know whether I want to, Jack. To begin with, which of
us is it your lonely soul is in search of?

JOANNA. Which of us is the fluid one, or the fluider one?

MABEL. Are you and I one? Or are you and Joanna one? Or are the three
of us two?