Fouldes.
If you were my wife, I should advertise in the papers that I wasn't responsible for your debts.
Lady Frederick.
If you were my husband, I'd advertise immediately underneath that I wasn't responsible for your manners.
Fouldes.
I wonder why you're so reckless.
Lady Frederick.
When my husband was alive I was so utterly wretched. And afterwards, when I looked forward to a little happiness, my boy died. Then I didn't care any more. I did everything I could to stupefy myself. I squandered money as other women take morphia—that's all.
Fouldes.
It's the same dear scatter-brained, good-hearted Betsy that I used to know.