Daisy. I'm very fond of Peking.
Harry. We've been married a year now. I don't want to hurt your feelings, darling, but it's no good beating about the bush, and I think it's better to be frank.
Daisy. Surely you can say anything you like to me without hesitation.
Harry. Things have been a little awkward in a way. The women I used to know before we married left cards on you—
Daisy. Having taken the precaution to discover that I should be out.
Harry. And you returned those cards and that was the end of it. I asked George what he thought about my taking you to the club to play tennis and he said he thought we'd better not risk it. The result is that you don't know a soul.
Daisy. Have I complained?
Harry. You've been most awfully decent about it, but I hate to think of your spending day after day entirely by yourself. It can't be good for you to be so much alone.
Daisy. I might have known Mrs. Chuan. She's a white woman.
Harry. Oh, my dear, she was—heaven knows what she was! She's married to a Chinaman. It's horrible. She's outside the pale.