to be nice to my wife. And your wife oughtn't to like me. And my
wife oughtn't to like you. And if they do, they oughtn't to go on
liking us. And I oughtn't to like your wife; and you oughtn't to
like mine; and if we do we oughtn't to go on liking them. But we
do, all of us. We oughtn't; but we do.

JUNO. But, my dear boy, if we admit we are in the wrong where's
the harm of it? We're not perfect; but as long as we keep the
ideal before us--

GREGORY. How?

JUNO. By admitting we were wrong.

MRS. LUNN [springing up, out of patience, and pacing round the
lounge intolerantly] Well, really, I must have my dinner. These
two men, with their morality, and their promises to their
mothers, and their admissions that they were wrong, and their
sinning and suffering, and their going on at one another as if it
meant anything, or as if it mattered, are getting on my nerves.
[Stooping over the back of the chesterfield to address Mrs. Juno]
If you will be so very good, my dear, as to take my sentimental
husband off my hands occasionally, I shall be more than obliged
to you: I'm sure you can stand more male sentimentality than I
can. [Sweeping away to the fireplace] I, on my part, will do my
best to amuse your excellent husband when you find him tiresome.

JUNO. I call this polyandry.

MRS. LUNN. I wish you wouldn't call innocent things by offensive