I: I think so even now. How can I help it?
Look.... [And here you must suppose me to show her
those first scrawled sheets, written automatically
by her hand.] Perhaps I'm revealing your own heart
to you, Susan--dragging to light what you've tried
to keep hidden even from yourself. See, dear. "A
net. No means of escape from it. To
escape--somehow. Jimmy----"
[And then Susan would perhaps have handed back
those scrawled pages to me with a pitying and
pitiful smile.]