No More Learning

_Morris_.
Well, it's strange,
My God, it's strange. A girl goes through the world
Like a white sail over the sea, a being
Woven so fine and lissom that her life
Is but the urging spirit on its journey,
And held by her in shape and attitude.
And all she's here for is that you may clutch
Her spirit in the love of a mating beast!

_Hamish_.
Why, she has fifty lovers if she has one,
And fifty's few for her.

_Morris_.
I'm going out.
If the night does me good, I'll come back here
Maybe, and walk home with you.

_Hamish_.
O don't bother.
If I want spirit, it will be for drinking.
[MORRIS _goes out_.
Spirit or no, drinking's better than talking.
Who was the sickly fellow to invent
That crazy notion spirit, now, I wonder?
But who'd have thought a burly lout like Morris
Would join the brabble? Sure he'll have in him
A pint more blood than I have; and he's all
For loving girls with words, three yards away!

JEAN _comes in_.

_Jean_.
Alone, my boy? Who was your handsome friend?

_Hamish_.
Whoever he was he's gone. But I'm still here.

_Jean_.
O yes, you're here; you're always here.

_Hamish_.
Of course,
And you know why.

_Jean_.
Do I? I've forgotten.