UNA [paying no heed to her father's remark]. George, you must divorce your wife.

GEORGE. Me? Why she's as good as gold and——

UNA. That's unfortunate. [Thinking.] Then I'll have to run away with you and let her get the divorce.

BRAITHEWAITE [now really shocked]. Una!

UNA [innocently]. What, Dad? Have you something better to suggest?

BRAITHEWAITE [fuming]. I can't permit it. I didn't mind the uncommon scandal of your marrying a car conductor, but I absolutely draw the line at common scandal.

UNA

GEORGE. Excuse me, but that don't make any difference. I don't want to get a divorce.

UNA. You don't? Why?

GEORGE [embarrassed]. Sounds like a song, I know, but—I love my wife.