Elizabeth. I’m a human being. I can stand on my own feet.
Lady Kitty. Have you any money of your own?
Elizabeth. None.
Lady Kitty. Then how can you stand on your own feet? You think I’m a silly, frivolous woman, but I’ve learned something in a bitter school. They can make what laws they like, they can give us the suffrage, but when you come down to bedrock it’s the man who pays the piper who calls the tune. Woman will only be the equal of man when she earns her living in the same way that he does.
Elizabeth. [Smiling.] It sounds rather funny to hear you talk like that.
Lady Kitty. A cook who marries a butler can snap her fingers in his face because she can earn just as much as he can. But a woman in your position and a woman in mine will always be dependent on the men who keep them.
Elizabeth. I don’t want luxury. You don’t know how sick I am of all this beautiful furniture. These over-decorated houses are like a prison in which I can’t breathe. When I drive about in a Callot frock and a Rolls-Royce I envy the shop-girl in a coat and skirt whom I see jumping on the tailboard of a bus.
Lady Kitty. You mean that if need be you could earn your own living?
Elizabeth. Yes.