Boyd: I don't know that I can guide your moods. That's difficult always between men. I can only try to tell you what I think. Is it worth while?
Hunter: Well?
Boyd: You and Margaret have been married five years, isn't it? It's not long, but it's a good deal in young lives.
Hunter: Five years—yes.
Boyd: They have been happy years, haven't they?
Hunter: Perfectly, until this.
Boyd: And now—by the way, have you ever cared for any other woman?
Hunter: No.
Boyd: No. And now there's Finlay. I've always liked Finlay. And his book on our Queen is the wisest word about her that I know.
Hunter: My God! It's funny, isn't it? Finlay on harlotry. I beg your pardon, Andrew.
Boyd: That's just it, my boy. Harlotry. The word buzzes in your brain, doesn't it? I wonder. Do you want to understand at all—or do you just mean to be angry?
Hunter: It's easy enough to understand.
