Edith.  She got married.  When she had three children—­the eldest only four years old—­her husband committed a murder, and then attempted to commit suicide, but only succeeded in disfiguring himself.  Instead of hanging him, they sent him to penal servitude for life, for the sake, they said, of his wife and infant children.  And she could not get a divorce from that horrible murderer.  They would not even keep him imprisoned for life.  For twenty years she had to live singly, bringing up her children by her own work, and knowing that just when they were grown up and beginning life, this dreadful creature would be let out to disgrace them all, and prevent the two girls getting decently married, and drive the son out of the country perhaps.  Is that really the law?  Am I to understand that if Cecil commits a mur-der, or forges, or steals, or becomes an atheist, I cant get divorced from him?

The bishop.  Yes, my dear.  That is so.  You must take him for better for worse.

Edith.  Then I most certainly refuse to enter into any such wicked contract.  What sort of servants? what sort of friends? what sort of Prime Ministers should we have if we took them for better for worse for all their lives?  We should simply encourage them in every sort of wickedness.  Surely my husband’s conduct is of more importance to me than Mr Balfour’s or Mr Asquith’s.  If I had known the law I would never have consented.  I dont believe any woman would if she realized what she was doing.

Sykes.  But I’m not going to commit murder.

Edith.  How do you know?  Ive sometimes wanted to murder Slattox. 
Have you never wanted to murder somebody, Uncle Rejjy?

Reginald [at Hotchkiss, with intense expression] Yes.

Leo.  Rejjy!

Reginald.  I said yes; and I mean yes.  There was one night, Hotchkiss, when I jolly near shot you and Leo and finished up with myself; and thats the truth.

Leo [suddenly whimpering] Oh Rejjy [she runs to him and kisses him].

Reginald [wrathfully] Be off. [She returns weeping to her seat].

Mrs Bridgenorth [petting Leo, but speaking to the company at large] But isnt all this great nonsense?  What likelihood is there of any of us committing a crime?

Hotchkiss.  Oh yes, I assure you.  I went into the matter once very carefully; and I found things I have actually done—­things that everybody does, I imagine—­would expose me, if I were found out and prosecuted, to ten years’ penal servitude, two years hard labor, and the loss of all civil rights.  Not counting that I’m a private trustee, and, like all private trustees, a fraudulent one.  Otherwise, the widow for whom I am trustee would starve occasionally, and the children get no education.  And I’m probably as honest a man as any here.

The general [outraged] Do you imply that I have been guilty of conduct that would expose me to penal servitude?