Sh: Exactly. (turns off radio) Now, listen. This is a strange situation because we've only just met. Nevertheless, I feel you should know something about me.
J: I think I already know quite a lot about you, Shelley. Remember, I majored in psychology.
Sh: So what's your diagnosis?
J: You're a loner. You fell in love with Mary because she's a loner too. You feel a deep sense of kinship with Mary because you're both artists, but you're dismayed with her self-destructive impetuousness. What you don't realize, Shelley, is that you are as wayward as Mary.
Sh: (shaking his head) I don't see it. Continue.
J: You don't see it because you don't want to. I guarantee, Shelley, that if Mary committed herself to you the way you think you want her to, you'd quickly be bored and start looking around for some excitement.
Sh: These things may be true. I must confess, with some chagrin, that I have no diagnosis at hand for you, Jack. You're being very mum about your obsession.
J: Obsession? I thought you had no diagnosis.
Sh: I don't- but I have a hypothesis.
Sh: The reason you took to me so quickly is that my situation is some ways mimics your own. You must have a Mary, just as I must have a Mary, and we both must have a cigarette. (they light up) What's your story, Jack? Pray make it improbable.
J: (puffing) I can't tell you yet, Shelley. I am a silent man...I am a spiteful man.
Sh: Are you taking notes from underground?
J: Only when I see velvet.
Sh: Come on, Jack, out with it. Fair and square. Let's not create any imbalance.