LADY CHESHIRE. [With painful irony] It is not so as a rule.
BILL. Up to now I've never heard you or the girls say a word against Freda. This isn't the moment to begin, please.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Solemnly] All such marriages end in wretchedness. You haven't a taste or tradition in common. You don't know what marriage is. Day after day, year after year. It's no use being sentimental—for people brought up as we are to have different manners is worse than to have different souls. Besides, it's poverty. Your father will never forgive you, and I've practically nothing. What can you do? You have no profession. How are you going to stand it; with a woman who—? It's the little things.
BILL. I know all that, thanks.
LADY CHESHIRE. Nobody does till they've been through it. Marriage is hard enough when people are of the same class. [With a sudden movement towards him] Oh! my dear-before it's too late!
BILL. [After a struggle] It's no good.
LADY CHESHIRE. It's not fair to her. It can only end in her misery.
BILL. Leave that to me, please.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With an almost angry vehemence] Only the very finest can do such things. And you don't even know what trouble's like.
BILL. Drop it, please, mother.