Geoffrey monologue — The Master of Mrs. Chilvers: An Improbable Comedy

Yes—if it is going to take you away from me. I want you. No, I don’t want a friend—“a fellow-worker”—some interesting rival in well doing. I can get all that outside my home. I want a wife. I want the woman I love to belong to me—to be mine. I am not troubling about being up to date; I’m talking what I feel—what every male creature must have felt since the protoplasmic cell developed instincts. I want a woman to love—a woman to work for—a woman to fight for—a woman to be a slave to. But mine—mine, and nothing else. All the rest (_he makes a gesture_) is talk.