of the old people and the maudlin sacrifice of the young. It's more
unbearable than any poverty: more horrible than any
regular-right-down wickedness. Oh, home! home! parents! family! duty!
how I loathe them! How I'd like to see them all blown to bits! The
poor escape. The wicked escape. Well, I cant be poor: we're rolling
in money: it's no use pretending we're not. But I can be wicked; and
I'm quite prepared to be.

LORD SUMMERHAYS. You think that easy?

HYPATIA. Well, isnt it? Being a man, you ought to know.

LORD SUMMERHAYS. It requires some natural talent, which can no doubt
be cultivated. It's not really easy to be anything out of the common.

HYPATIA. Anyhow, I mean to make a fight for living.

LORD SUMMERHAYS. Living your own life, I believe the Suffragist
phrase is.

HYPATIA. Living any life. Living, instead of withering without even
a gardener to snip you off when youre rotten.

LORD SUMMERHAYS. Ive lived an active life; but Ive withered all the
same.

HYPATIA. No: youve worn out: thats quite different. And youve some
life in you yet or you wouldnt have fallen in love with me. You can
never imagine how delighted I was to find that instead of being the
correct sort of big panjandrum you were supposed to be, you were