[Puzzled.] Your hour? I don’t think I quite understand you.
Agnes.
There’s only one hour in a woman’s life—when she’s defying her husband, wrecking his happiness and blasting his prospects. That is her hour! Let her make the most of every second of it!
Ebbsmith.
[Wearily.] Well, my dear, when it’s over, you’ll have the satisfaction of counting the departing footsteps of a ruined man.
Agnes.
Departing?
Ebbsmith.
Certainly. You and your crusade between them will have killed me. But I must go now. I ought to be at my chambers in ten minutes, and I must go round and make my excuses to Jawkins some time this morning. Tell Jane not to bother about dinner to-night. I shall dine at the Club.