, I want to be told.

ANABEL. That's rather mean of you. You should savvy, and let it go
without saying.

GERALD. Yes, but I don't savvy.

ANABEL. Then wait till you do.

GERALD. No, I want to be told. There's a difference in you, Anabel, that
puts me out, rather. You're sort of softer and sweeter--I'm not sure
whether it isn't a touch of father in you. There's a little sanctified
smudge on your face. Are you really a bit sanctified?

ANABEL. No, not sanctified. It's true I feel different. I feel I want
a new way of life--something more dignified, more religious, if you
like--anyhow, something POSITIVE.

GERALD. Is it the change of heart, Anabel?

ANABEL. Perhaps it is, Gerald.

GERALD. I'm not sure that I like it. Isn't it like a berry that decides
to get very sweet, and goes soft?

ANABEL. I don't think so.

GERALD. Slightly sanctimonious. I think I liked you better before. I
don't think I like you with this touch of aureole. People seem to me so
horribly self-satisfied when they get a change of heart--they take such
a fearful lot of credit to themselves on the strength of it.

ANABEL. I don't think I do.--Do you feel no different, Gerald?

GERALD. Radically, I can't say I do. I feel very much more INdifferent.

ANABEL. What to?

GERALD. Everything.

ANABEL. You're still angry--that's what it is.

GERALD. Oh, yes, I'm angry. But that is part of my normal state.

ANABEL. Why are you angry?

GERALD. Is there any reason why I shouldn't be angry? I'm angry because
you treated me--well, so impudently, really--clearing out and leaving
one to whistle to the empty walls.

ANABEL. Don't you think it was time I cleared out, when you became so
violent, and really dangerous, really like a madman?

GERALD. Time or not time, you went--you disappeared and left us high and
dry--and I am still angry.--But I'm not only angry about that. I'm angry
with the colliers, with Labour for its low-down impudence--and I'm angry
with father for being so ill--and I'm angry with mother for looking such
a hopeless thing--and I'm angry with Oliver because he thinks so much---

ANABEL. And what are you angry with yourself for?

GERALD. I'm angry with myself for being myself--I always was that. I was
always a curse to myself.

ANABEL. And that's why you curse others so much?

GERALD. You talk as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.

ANABEL. You see, Gerald, there has to be a change. You'll have to
change.

GERALD. Ch