DAN: Women don't have to be drunk to talk.... You don't talk that much,
though; fair play. (_Looking her up and down, insolently_) You're
a dark horse, you are.

_A pause. She rises abruptly and stands at the fireplace, her back to
him. She takes off her spectacles._

Ye know, this isn't the life for you. What is there to it? Tell me
that!

OLIVIA (_sombrely_): What is there to it ...?

DAN: Yes....

OLIVIA: Getting up at seven, mending my stockings or washing them,
having breakfast with a vixenish old woman and spending the rest of the
day with her, in a dreary house in the middle of a wood, and going to
bed at eleven.... I'm plain, I haven't got any money, I'm shy, and I
haven't got any friends.

DAN (_teasing_): Don't you _like_ the old lady?

OLIVIA: I could kill her.

_A pause. She realises what she has said._

DAN (_with a laugh_): Oh, no, you couldn't!... Not many people
have it in them to kill people.... Oh, no!