I don't know whose fault it is.

VARVARA.
Is it likely you would know?

KABANOV.
She used to keep on at me, "You must get a wife, you must get a wife, I'm
longing to see you a married man." And now she worries my life out, and
gives me no peace--all on your account.

VARVARA.
Well, it's not her fault! Mother attacks her, and you too. And then you
say you love your wife. It makes me sick to look at you. (_Turns away_.)

KABANOV.
Talk away! What am I to do?

VARVARA.
Mind your own business--hold your tongue, if you can't do anything better.
Why do you stand there shilly-shallying? I can see by your face what's in
your mind.

KABANOV.
Why, what?

VARVARA.
What?--Why, that you want to go in and have a drink with Saviol
Prokofitch. Eh? isn't that it?

KABANOV.