MRS. PENDLETON. Hush! Hush!
TIMBRELL. I wouldn’t have said it but since she has—You dare to suggest that your mother is no better than your wife?
PENDLETON. Now, come, Timbrell; that’s not the way to put it.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Mary is good enough for me.
TIMBRELL. That isn’t the point. Don’t you yourself resent—didn’t you hear what he said?
MRS. TIMBRELL. I thought he was a little cruel.
LEONARD. But who cares for you in this family as I do.
ADA. Who cares less? Who would treat her so abominably?
EDGAR. My mother is to me an immaculate saint. To you—
LEONARD. What do I care for immaculate saints? What good are they to me? My mother’s a strange woman. She has all kinds of curious reserves and she lives among you quite like one of yourselves.