It is meant to be so, because, after seventeen years of married life, I am going to speak my mind at last. [Holding up the head before him.] Archibald, look at that.
RANKLING.
What's that?
MRS. RANKLING.
Myself—less than ten years ago—the sculptor's earliest effort.
RANKLING.
Broken—made of bad stuff—send it back.
MRS. RANKLING.
It is your memory I wish to send back. Ah, Archibald, do you see how round and plump those cheeks are?