John: ... Well ... in the first place: there are plenty of Roses, now, aren’t there?
Gwen: I suppose so.
John: Thousands. The streets are strewn with their petals; and the winds that strew them, blow out of unhappy homes.
Gwen: Yes.
John: Out of unsuccessful marriages; and lonely separations. They can’t boast such a success with their Roses, as things are.
Gwen: No.
John: And in the second place, if Rosie’d been your daughter, or mine, she’d have had a different education about it all.... Wouldn’t she?
Gwen: Yes.
John: What Rosie knows, she knows from cinemas, and giggling talks with other girls and occasional young men. Whatever “teaching” she’s had, has been just Don’t.
Gwen: Yes. Just “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t; it’s wicked,” all the time.