(_Moving down to_ L. _of_ L.C. _table_.)
You always said that he was dead.
OLIVIA. Well, I always thought that he was dead. He was as dead as
anybody could be. All the papers said he was dead.
GEORGE (_scornfully_). The papers!(_Crossing up to smoking-table for his
pipe_.)
OLIVIA (_as if this would settle it for_ GEORGE). The _Times_ said he was
dead. There was a paragraph about him. Apparently even his death was
fraudulent.
GEORGE (_coming down_ C.). Yes, yes, I'm not blaming you, Olivia, but
what are we going to do, that's the question, what are we going to do? My
God, it's horrible! (_Crossing to fireplace_.) You've never been married
to me at all! You don't seem to understand.
OLIVIA. It is a little difficult to realize. You see, it doesn't seem to
have made any difference to our happiness.
GEORGE. No, that's what's so terrible. (OLIVIA _looks up surprised_.) I
mean--well, of course, we were quite innocent in the matter. (_Sits in
arm-chair down_ L.) But, at the same time, nothing can get over the fact
that we--we had no right to--to be happy.
OLIVIA. Would you rather we had been miserable?
GEORGE. You're Telworthy's wife, that's what you don't seem to
understand. You're Telworthy's wife. You--er--forgive me, Olivia, but
it's the horrible truth--you committed bigamy when you married me. (_In
horror, going up_ L.) Bigamy! (_Coming round to_ C.)
OLIVIA. It is an ugly word, isn't it?
GEORGE.
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