would you have me hang this on my bones?

LUCAS. Oh, when we are dining, or--

AGNES. Dining in a public place?

LUCAS. Why not look your best in a public place?

AGNES. Look my best? You know, I don't think of this sort of garment in
connection with our companionship, Lucas.

LUCAS. It is not an extraordinary garment for a lady.

AGNES. Rustle of silk, glare of arms and throat--they belong, to my
mind, to such a very different order of things from that we have set
up.

LUCAS. Shall I appear before you in ill-made clothes, clumsy boots--

AGNES. Why? We are just as we have always been, since we've been
together. I don't tell you that your appearance is beginning to offend.

LUCAS. Offend! Agnes, you--you pain me. I simply fail to understand
why you should allow our mode of life to condemn you to perpetual
slovenliness.

AGNES. Slovenliness!

LUCAS. No, no, shabbiness.