BILL. There--is--nothing.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Baffled, but unconvinced] Do you mean that your love
for her has been just what it might have been for a lady?

BILL. [Bitterly] Why not?

LADY CHESHIRE. [With painful irony] It is not so as a rule.

BILL. Up to now I've never heard you or the girls say a word against
Freda. This isn't the moment to begin, please.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Solemnly] All such marriages end in wretchedness.
You haven't a taste or tradition in common. You don't know what
marriage is. Day after day, year after year. It's no use being
sentimental--for people brought up as we are to have different
manners is worse than to have different souls. Besides, it's
poverty. Your father will never forgive you, and I've practically
nothing. What can you do? You have no profession. How are you
going to stand it; with a woman who--? It's the little things.

BILL. I know all that, thanks.

LADY CHESHIRE. Nobody does till they've been through it. Marriage
is hard enough when people are of the same class. [With a sudden
movement towards him] Oh! my dear-before it's too late!

BILL. [After a struggle] It's no good.