In Melbourne. At first the sight of the old name brought back old memories, and I forgave her. I got out the few remnants the past leaves to men--the few pale letters and the faded photograph that grows a little dimmer every day--when my eyes fell on that last note I found upon her desk. I huddled up the scraps and went my way. I took up art as a profession--changed my name in deference to my family, who look on art as a mild form of felony--and time went on. I pulled the old things out again, and found that I could look at them unmoved. I even thought of marrying again, when, as I stood talking to you that last day at Sir Humphrey's, there flashed on me a figure and a face so like my wife's, it was like seeing her. And with the sight of her came back the love. (crosses to C.) (LUCY: It wasn't dead, then?) Does love ever die? Dark mists of prejudice may wrap it round, and it may set in clouds, but every now and then the clouds are rolled away and there shines out on us once more the image of the woman we have loved. (LUCY: Was Mrs. Blake so like her?) So like I dare not meet her. I could only go. I wasn't in the mood for explanations, and when I was, Sir Humphrey wasn't in the mood to listen to them.

Tom Monologue from The Silver Shield: An Original Comedy in Three Acts

Rehearse Tom's monologue