I was a fool, to ask you again to Wishwood;
But I thought, thirty-five years is long, and death is an end,
And I thought that time might have made a change in Agatha--
It has made enough in me. Thirty-five years ago
You took my husband from me. Now you take my son.
What did I take? nothing that you ever had.
What did I get? thirty years of solitude,
Alone, among women, in a women's college,
Trying not to dislike women. Thirty years in which to think.
Do you suppose that I wanted to return to Wishwood?
The more rapacious, to take what I never had;
The more unpardonable, to taunt me with not having it.