Oxen Meadows, we or he?

CHUBUKOV. [To LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours!

LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be
a reasonable man! My aunt's grandmother gave the Meadows for the
temporary and free use of your grandfather's peasants. The peasants
used the land for forty years and got as accustomed to it as if it
was their own, when it happened that ...

CHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my precious. ... You forget just this, that
the peasants didn't pay your grandmother and all that, because the
Meadows were in dispute, and so on. And now everybody knows that
they're ours. It means that you haven't seen the plan.

LOMOV. I'll prove to you that they're mine!

CHUBUKOV. You won't prove it, my darling.

LOMOV. I shall!

CHUBUKOV. Dear one, why yell like that? You won't prove anything
just by yelling. I don't want anything of yours, and don't intend
to give up what I have. Why should I? And you know, my beloved,
that if you propose to go on arguing about it, I'd much sooner give
up the meadows to the peasants than to you. There!

LOMOV. I don't understand! How have you the right to give away
somebody else's property?