HARVEY. [With a groan.] Yes.
MRS. WESTERN. With our two children. If it weren't for them…. Well, we've got to remain together. Now there's this girl. It's quite evident, after what you've said, that she can't stop here—
HARVEY. [Jumping to his feet.] She shall!
MRS. WESTERN. [Fretfully.] Oh, do be a man, and drop this mawkish sentiment! You say she's fond of you—you've made her fond of you. Was this a very pretty thing—for a man of your age to do?
HARVEY. [Sullenly, as he drops back into his chair.] Never mind my age.
MRS. WESTERN. Very well then—for a married man?
HARVEY. An unhappy man.
MRS. WESTERN. Even granting that—though if you're unhappy it's your own fault—I've always been urging you to go on the County Council—What's to become of the girl, if she stops here?
HARVEY. [Desperately.] I don't know—but I can't let her go—I tell you
I can't!
MRS. WESTERN. [Scarcely able to conceal her disgust.] Oh, if you knew how painful it is to hear you whining like this! It's pitiable, really! In the girl's own interest—how can she stop?