VERNON. Do you know, I sometimes think that you don't like them.
[Fanny makes a movement.] Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit.
But all that comes from their devotion, their -

FANNY. The wonder to me is that, brought up among them, admiring
them as you do, you never thought of marrying one of them.

VERNON [staggered.] Marrying them?

FANNY. I didn't say "them." I said "ONE of them." There's Honoria.
She's pretty enough, anyhow. So's Alice, Charles Bennet's daughter,
and Bertha and Grace--all of them beautiful. And what's even better
still--good. [She says it viciously.] Didn't you ever think of
them?

VERNON. Well [laughs]--well, one hardly marries into one's own
kitchen.

FANNY. Isn't that rather snobbish? You say they're more like
friends than servants. They've lived with your people, side by side,
for three generations, doing their duty, honourably. There's never
been a slur upon their name. They're "high-principled." You know
it. They've better manners than nine-tenths of your smart society,
and they're healthy. What's wrong with them--even from a lord's
point of view?

VERNON [recovering himself]. Well, don't pitch into me about it.
It's your fault if I didn't marry them--I mean one of them. [He
laughs, puts his empty cup back on the table.] Maybe I'd have