I
solemnly declare that between this woman, as you impolitely call
her, and me, I see no barrier that my conscience bids me respect.
I loathe the whole marriage morality of the middle classes with
all my instincts. If I were an eighteenth century marquis I could
feel no more free with regard to a Parisian citizen's wife than I
do with regard to Polly. I despise all this domestic purity
business as the lowest depth of narrow, selfish, sensual, wife-
grabbing vulgarity.
MRS GEORGE [rising promptly] Oh, indeed. Then youre not coming
home with me, young man. I'm sorry; for its refreshing to have
met once in my life a man who wasnt frightened by my wedding
ring; but I'm looking out for a friend and not for a French
marquis; so youre not coming home with me.
HOTCHKISS [inexorably] Yes, I am.
MRS GEORGE. No.
HOTCHKISS. Yes. Think again. You know your set pretty well, I
suppose, your petty tradesmen's set. You know all its scandals
and hypocrisies, its jealousies and squabbles, its hundred of
divorce cases that never come into court, as well as its tens
that do.
MRS GEORGE. We're not angels. I know a few scandals; but most of
us are too dull to be anything but good.
HOTCHKISS. Then you must have noticed that just an all murderers,
judging by their edifying remarks on the scaffold, seem to be
devout Christians, so all Christians, both male and female, are
invariably people over-flowing with domestic sentimentality and
professions of respect for the conventions they violate in
secret.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262