The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three Acts

by Arthur Wing Pinero

[In an undertone.] We always knew where to draw the line, I hope.

Justina.

Of course we did. Only, when you’re married, as Theo is, to a cold, dry mummy of a man like Alexander Fraser, the line’s apt to get drawn rather zigzag.

Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

[Finishing with the flowers.] Go away!

Justina.

Thanks—they’re jolly. [Picking up a little mirror from the table, and making a wry face at herself.] I haven’t had a night’s sound sleep for weeks.

Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

I should think not, with such thoughts in your head. Poor Theo! I’ve been fretting about her too, in a different way.

Justina.