MAJOR. It’s very simple. Living here with my mother and my wife, who both claim to be “monarch of all they survey,” I, the master of the house—
DOCTOR. Find yourself cutting rather a contemptible figure—eh?
MAJOR. Very much so. It would be easy enough to do as Georgina wishes, or my mother, but to do as they both wish is impossible, for the simple reason that no two women ever wish the same thing, consequently, the result is anger on one side, sulky looks on the other; one invokes her title of “mother,” the other her privileges of “wife;” consequently, between the two—
DOCTOR. You come in for more kicks than half-pence?
MAJOR. Considerably more! In fact, all kicks.
DOCTOR. And yet I don’t know a more charming, amiable person than your excellent mother. I’ve known and admired her for more than thirty years; in fact, had it depended on me, I might very possibly have been your father.
MAJOR. Thank you. But I’m very well satisfied as I am; besides, the thing couldn’t be done now.
DOCTOR. Not conveniently! However, she preferred marrying the “author of your being,” so there was an end of my romance! But to return to these unfortunate domestic quarrels; from what I know of your mother, I am convinced the fault lies with your wife.
MAJOR. And from what I know of my wife, I’m certain it lies with my mother.