Mrs George.  A smoke!  Why, you said she couldnt bear it.

The general.  Good heavens!  I forgot!  It’s such a natural thing to do, somehow.

Lesbia comes in through the tower.

Mrs George.  He’s been smoking again.

Lesbia.  So my nose tells me. [She goes to the end of the table nearest the hearth, and sits down].

The general.  Lesbia:  I’m very sorry.  But if I gave it up, I should become so melancholy and irritable that you would be the first to implore me to take to it again.

Mrs George.  Thats true.  Women drive their husbands into all sorts of wickedness to keep them in good humor.  Sinjon:  be off with you:  this doesnt concern you.

Lesbia.  Please dont disturb yourself, Sinjon.  Boxer’s broken heart has been worn on his sleeve too long for any pretence of privacy.

The general.  You are cruel, Lesbia:  devilishly cruel. [He sits down, wounded].

Lesbia.  You are vulgar, Boxer.

Hotchkiss.  In what way?  I ask, as an expert in vulgarity.

Lesbia.  In two ways.  First, he talks as if the only thing of any importance in life was which particular woman he shall marry.  Second, he has no self-control.

The general.  Women are not all the same to me, Lesbia.

Mrs George.  Why should they be, pray?  Women are all different:  it’s the men who are all the same.  Besides, what does Miss Grantham know about either men or women?  She’s got too much self-control.

Lesbia [widening her eyes and lifting her chin haughtily] And pray how does that prevent me from knowing as much about men and women as people who have no self-control?

Mrs George.  Because it frightens people into behaving themselves before you; and then how can you tell what they really are?  Look at me!  I was a spoilt child.  My brothers and sisters were well brought up, like all children of respectable publicans.  So should I have been if I hadnt been the youngest:  ten years younger than my youngest brother.  My parents were tired of doing their duty by their children by that time; and they spoilt me for all they were worth.  I never knew what it was to want money or anything that money could buy.  When I wanted my own way, I had nothing to do but scream for it till I got it.  When I was annoyed I didnt control myself:  I scratched and called names.  Did you ever, after you were grown up, pull a grown-up woman’s hair?  Did you ever bite a grown-up man?  Did you ever call both of them every name you could lay your tongue to?

Lesbia [shivering with disgust] No.

Mrs George.  Well, I did.  I know what a woman is like when her hair’s pulled.  I know what a man is like when he’s bit.  I know what theyre both like when you tell them what you really feel about them.  And thats how I know more of the world than you.