MRS. LUNN. No: it's too long. You can't go about calling a woman Seraphita.
JUNO [ecstatically] Seraphita!
MRS. LUNN. I used to be called Sally at home; but when I married a man named Lunn, of course that became ridiculous. That's my one little pet joke. Call me Mrs. Lunn for short. And change the subject, or I shall go to sleep.
JUNO. I can't change the subject. For me there is no other subject. Why else have you put me on your list?
MRS. LUNN. Because you're a solicitor. Gregory's a solicitor. I'm accustomed to my husband being a solicitor and telling me things he oughtn't to tell anybody.
JUNO [ruefully] Is that all? Oh, I can't believe that the voice of love has ever thoroughly awakened you.
MRS. LUNN. No: it sends me to sleep. [Juno appeals against this by an amorous demonstration]. It's no use, Mr. Juno: I'm hopelessly respectable: the Jenkinses always were. Don't you realize that unless most women were like that, the world couldn't go on as it does?
JUNO [darkly] You think it goes on respectably; but I can tell you as a solicitor—
MRS. LUNN. Stuff! of course all the disreputable people who get into trouble go to you, just as all the sick people go to the doctors; but most people never go to a solicitor.
JUNO [rising, with a growing sense of injury] Look here, Mrs. Lunn: do you think a man's heart is a potato? or a turnip? or a ball of knitting wool? that you can throw it away like this?