TEMPTER. _A tout prix_! Yes, that's the source of degradation! You
grow accustomed to holding your tongue, and at last find yourself
caught in a tissue of falsehoods.

STRANGER. Wait! Don't you agree that married people so mix their
personalities that they can no longer distinguish between meum and
tuum, no longer remain separate from one another, or cannot tell
their own weaknesses from those of the other. My jealous friend,
who called me Othello, took me for herself, identified me with
herself.

TEMPTER. That sounds conceivable.

STRANGER. You see! You can often explain most if you don't ask
who's to blame. For when married people begin to differ, it's like
a realm divided against itself, and that's the worst kind of
disharmony.

TEMPTER. There are moments when I think a woman cannot love a man.

STRANGER. Perhaps not. To love is an active verb and woman's a
passive noun. He loves and she is loved; he asks questions and she
merely answers.

TEMPTER. Then what is woman's love?

STRANGER. The man's.

TEMPTER. Well said. And therefore when the man ceases to love her,