Mrs. Tremaine.
I daresay. I have not been in Paradise, I assure you. What are you going to do? (Pours out some tea.)
Denham.
I don't know.
Mrs. Tremaine.
(puts in sugar) Will she—stay with you?
Denham.
What else can she do?
Mrs. Tremaine.
(stirring her tea) Then I wish you joy of the ménage. You don't seem to have gained much by making a fool of me.