Yes. _We_ know our own frailty, _you_ never quite realise yours.

Mrs. Tremaine.

What has made you so cynical?

Denham.

The bitterness of life. Are your hands warm yet? (_Takes her
hands._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

Yes, I can go back now.

(_She goes back to the "throne." He poses her, and returns to the
easel._)

Denham.

(_painting again_) Marriage must certainly be modified. A woman
should have some honourable way of escape, when her husband gets
tired of her.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_laughing_) How delicately you put it! But the wife? If you had to
bear all you so chivalrously inflict on us in "honourable" marriage,
I wonder how many marriages there would be?