You prefer to be serious, Henry? All right. How long do you wish me to exist somewhere in the basment of your life? How lonely do you want me to become? I've asked nothing of you. I've let you live your life as your pleased. Can't you give me one evening? Oh, I know you hate parties and you'll be bored. But it means a great deal to me. Call it empty, social vanity--I want to appear, for once, with my boyfriend. I suppose you never think of it in such terms, but you're an important man, you're envied, halted, respected and feared, you're a man whom any woman would be proud to show off as her boyfriend. You may say it's a low form of feminine ostentation, but that's the form of any woman's happiness. You don't live by such standards, but I do. Can't you give me this much, at the price of a few hours of boredom? Can't you be strong enough to fulfill your obligation and to perform a husband's duty? Can't you go there, not for your own sake, but mine, not because you want to go, but only because I want it?