George. Yes, yes, dear. It would be interesting to–that is, one naturally wants to know these things, but of course it doesn't make any real difference. Olivia (surprised). No difference?
George (rising and coming down to back of settee L.). Well, that is to say, you're as much his wife if he's in Australia as you are if he's in England.
Olivia. I am not his wife at all. (Shaking her head.) Jacob Telworthy may be alive, but I am not his wife. I ceased to be his wife when I became yours.
George. You never were my wife. (Annoyed and crossing to R. and back again to L.C.) That is the terrible part of it. Our union–you make me say it, Olivia–has been unhallowed by the Church. Unhallowed even by the Law. Legally, we have been living in–living in–well, the point is, how does the Law stand? I imagine that Telworthy could get a–a divorce.... Oh, it seems impossible that things like this can be happening to us. (Going up C.)
Olivia. A divorce?
George. I–I imagine so.
Olivia. But then we could really get married, and we shouldn't be living in–living in–whatever we were living in before.
George (coming down to R. of table L.C.). I can't understand you, Olivia. You talk about it so calmly, as if there was nothing blameworthy in being divorced.
Olivia. Yes, but——
George. As if there was nothing unusual in my marrying a divorced woman.