Sul. And I abhor ombre and picquet.
Mrs. Sul. Your silence is intolerable.
Sul. Your prating is worse.
Mrs. Sul. Is there, on earth, a thing we can agree in?
Sul. Yes—to part.
Mrs. Sul. With all my heart.
Sul. Your hand.
Mrs. Sul. Here.
Sul. These hands joined us; these shall part us—Away!
Mrs. Sul. East.