sarah. Look ahead for me.
carnaby. Banished to a hole in the damned provinces! But you're young yet, you're charming . . you're the wife . . and the honest wife of one of the country's best men. My head aches. D'ye despise good fortune's gifts? Keep as straight in your place in the world as you can. A monthly packet of books to Yorkshire . . no . . you never were fond of reading. Ye'd play patience . . cultivate chess problems . . kill yourself!
sarah. When one world fails take another.
carnaby. You have no more right to commit suicide than to desert the society you were born into. My head aches.
sarah. George is happy.
carnaby. D'ye dare to think so?
sarah. No. . it's a horrible marriage.
carnaby. He's losing refinement . . mark me . . he no longer polishes his nails.
sarah. But there are the children now.
carnaby. You never have wanted children.