DOROTHEA. It's not so much
That I want James, as that you've made me cross.
In fact, if your behaviour had been such----
DOROTHY (_who, after a little puzzling is now in the act of writing_).
I'm glad to hear that you'll survive the loss.
DOROTHEA (_in slow horror_). You've spoilt it! Let me see!... 'Of course
I would....
'Of course I would be damned first....' Little cat!
DOROTHY. Don't be a silly child. As if you could
Abandon me for such a fool as that!
O Zurich! O Vienna! Can you be
So psychoanalytically dense
As not to grasp that by considering me
You gain a double health of spirit and sense?
DOROTHEA. I'll never find the man of my desire!
DOROTHY. Then break your heart over a silver birch.
DOROTHEA. But this! No girl could send off such a wire.
DOROTHY. Shock him--or else he'll get you to the church!
DOROTHEA. You're right. How often, and with how much pain,
We burst a lock to find--an empty room!
But that's all over. Let's be friends again
And so stay always!
DOROTHY. Till the crack of doom....
And here's _my_ gage! Accept the knife I took
From Borgia (how he'll rail at me, poor ghost!)
And with it--cut the master's newest book.
DOROTHEA. Where are you going?
DOROTHY. Going? To the post.
DOROTHEA. Don't hurry. Stop awhile, and take from _me_
A pledge of golden friendship unalloyed--
A cup of tea! With milk and sugar?
DOROTHY (_with profound contempt_). Tea!
'Oh, for a draught....' But here's to Jung!
DOROTHEA (_raising her cup_). And Freud!
1921.