MAGGIE. I've sometimes thought, John, that the difference between us
and the English is that the Scotch are hard in all other respects but
soft with women, and the English are hard with women but soft in all
other respects.

JOHN. You've forgotten the grandest moral attribute of a Scotsman,
Maggie, that he'll do nothing which might damage his career.

MAGGIE. Ah, but John, whatever you do, you do it so tremendously; and
if you were to love, what a passion it would be.

JOHN. There's something in that, I suppose.

MAGGIE. And then, what could I do? For the desire of my life now,
John, is to help you to get everything you want, except just that I
want you to have me, too.

JOHN. We'll get on fine, Maggie.

MAGGIE. You're just making the best of it. They say that love is
sympathy, and if that's so, mine must be a great love for you, for I
see all you are feeling this night and bravely hiding; I feel for you
as if I was John Shand myself. [He sighs.]

JOHN. I had best go to the meeting, Maggie.

MAGGIE. Not yet. Can you look me in the face, John, and deny that
there is surging within you a mighty desire to be free, to begin the
new life untrammelled?