MRS. BEN DIXON.
You will have the opportunity of doing so—before the magistrate (regarding him with concentrated disgust), you sanctimonious old scoundrel.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
A good wife as I was to you, Henery, how could you do it?
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Gertrude, I can explain.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Explain! You'll explain yourself into heaven if they're not sharp. Can you explain why you humbugged and lied an unfortunate fool of a woman into marrying you?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
And broke your poor wife's heart.