Penelope. W. Somerset Maugham

You ask me for my opinion, and I give it you. I regret that you should think it nonsense.

      Beadsworth.

      And what are you proposing to do now?

      Penelope.

      [With great determination.] I’m never going to live with Dickie again. As soon as I’ve seen him I shall leave this house for ever.

      Beadsworth.

      You’re proposing to have a few words with him?

      Penelope.

      Several. I’m going to tell him that I despise him, and that I hate him; I’m going to throw my wedding ring in his face, and then I shall sweep out of the room.

      Beadsworth.

      Have you really made up your mind that you won’t forgive him?

      Penelope.

      Nothing would induce me ever to speak to him again if it weren’t that I want to tell him exactly what I think of him.

      Barlow.

      Besides, you’ve got your family to think of. Of course you must leave him. You see, that is what I say, you’re not safe with people of no birth. I look upon all this as a blessing in disguise.

      Beadsworth.

      Do you wish to bring an action for judicial separation?

      Penelope.

      My dear Mr. Beadsworth, what are you talking about! I’m going to divorce him. I’m going to make an awful scandal.

      Beadsworth.

      Well, I suppose we could arrange that at a pinch with the help of the newspapers. Has he ever been cruel to you?

      Penelope.

      Good heavens, no! That’s what makes me so angry. The last month he’s been more perfectly charming and delightful than ever. Oh, I wish I could do something really unpleasant to Ada Fergusson. Something with boiling oil in it.

      Mrs. Golightly.

      I am shocked, frankly shocked. I would never have thought that Dickie could be so wicked.

      Barlow.

      Family life in England is going to the dogs. That is the long and short of it.