OLIVIA. About Jacob Telworthy?
GEORGE. You told me he was dead. You always said that he was dead. You—you—
OLIVIA. Well, I always thought that he was dead. He was as dead as anybody could be. All the papers said he was dead.
GEORGE (scornfully). The papers!
OLIVIA (as if this would settle it for GEORGE). The Times said he was dead. There was a paragraph about him. Apparently even his death was fraudulent.
GEORGE. Yes, yes, I'm not blaming you, Olivia, but what are we going to do, that's the question, what are we going to do? My God, it's horrible! You've never been married to me at all! You don't seem to understand.
OLIVIA. It is a little difficult to realise. You see, it doesn't seem to have made any difference to our happiness.
GEORGE. No, that's what's so terrible. I mean—well, of course, we were quite innocent in the matter. But, at the same time, nothing can get over the fact that we—we had no right to—to be happy.
OLIVIA. Would you rather we had been miserable?
GEORGE. You're Telworthy's wife, that's what you don't seem to understand. You're Telworthy's wife. You—er—forgive me, Olivia, but it's the horrible truth—you committed bigamy when you married me. (In horror) Bigamy!