LADY CHESHIRE. [Looking down, and speaking rapidly] Listen to me.
I love my son, but I know him—I know all his kind of man. I've
lived with one for thirty years. I know the way their senses work.
When they want a thing they must have it, and then—they're sorry.
FREDA. [Sullenly] He's not sorry.
LADY CHESHIRE. Is his love big enough to carry you both over everything?…. You know it isn't.
FREDA. If I were a lady, you wouldn't talk like that.
LADY CHESHIRE. If you were a lady there'd be no trouble before either of you. You'll make him hate you.
FREDA. I won't believe it. I could make him happy—out there.
LADY CHESHIRE. I don't want to be so odious as to say all the things you must know. I only ask you to try and put yourself in our position.
FREDA. Ah, yes!
LADY CHESHIRE. You ought to know me better than to think I'm purely selfish.
FREDA. Would you like to put yourself in my position?