Marcel [taking off his hat, which he had put on some moments before]. I tell you this is my house, and this my studio. Your house is there by the garden.
Françoise. Yes, it's only there that you are my husband.
Marcel. Oh! [Reproachfully, and with tenderness.] Tell me, Françoise, why don't you ever want to go out with me?
Françoise. You know I don't like society.
Marcel. I'm seen so much alone!
Françoise. So much the better for you; you will be taken for a bachelor!
Marcel. One might think the way you talk, that husband and wife ought never to live together.
Françoise. Perhaps I'd see you oftener if we weren't married!
Marcel. Isn't it a pleasure to you, Madame, to be in the arms of your husband?
Françoise. Isn't it likewise a pleasure to be able to say, "He is free, I am not his wife, he is not my husband; I am not his duty, a millstone around his neck; I am his avocation, his love? If he leaves me, I know he is tired of me, but if he comes back, then I know he loves me"?