Basil.
Are you willing to swear that you don't go to my desk when I'm away to read my letters? Come, Jenny, answer that question.
Jenny.
[Disturbed but forced by his glance to reply.] Well, I'm you're wife, I have a right to know.
Basil.
[Bitterly.] You have such odd ideas about the duties of a wife, Jenny. They include reading my letters and following me in the street. But tolerance and charity and forbearance don't seem to come in your scheme of things.
Jenny.
[Sullenly.] Why d'you want to write your letters elsewhere?
Basil.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] I thought I should be quieter.