LUCAS. What a topic. Poor Agnes's dress!
ST. OLPHERTS. Your taste used to be rather aesthetic. Even your own wife is one of the smartest women in London.
LUCAS. Ha, well I must contrive to smother these aesthetic tastes of mine.
ST. OLPHERTS. It's a pity that other people will retain their sense of the incongruous.
LUCAS. [Snapping his fingers.] Other people!—
ST. OLPHERTS. The public.
LUCAS. The public?
ST. OLPHERTS. Come, you know well enough that unostentatious immodesty is no part of your partner's programme. Of course, you will find yourself by-and-bye in a sort of perpetual parade with your crack-brained visionary—
LUCAS. You shall not speak of her so! You shall not.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Unconcernedly.] Each of you bearing a pole of the soiled banner of Free Union. Free Union for the People! Ho, my dear Lucas!