MRS WHITEFIELD. [carried away by the relief of hearing her own opinion so eloquently expressed] Oh, she is a hypocrite. She is: she is. Isn't she?
TANNER. Then why do you want to marry me to her?
MRS WHITEFIELD. [querulously] There now! put it on me, of course.
I never thought of it until Tavy told me she said I did. But, you know, I'm very fond of Tavy: he's a sort of son to me; and I don't want him to be trampled on and made wretched.
TANNER. Whereas I don't matter, I suppose.
MRS WHITEFIELD. Oh, you are different, somehow: you are able to take care of yourself. You'd serve her out. And anyhow, she must marry somebody.
TANNER. Aha! there speaks the life instinct. You detest her; but you feel that you must get her married.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [rising, shocked] Do you mean that I detest my own daughter! Surely you don't believe me to be so wicked and unnatural as that, merely because I see her faults.
TANNER. [cynically] You love her, then?
MRS WHITEFIELD. Why, of course I do. What queer things you say, Jack! We can't help loving our own blood relations.
TANNER. Well, perhaps it saves unpleasantness to say so. But for my part, I suspect that the tables of consanguinity have a natural basis in a natural repugnance [he rises].
MRS WHITEFIELD. You shouldn't say things like that, Jack. I hope you won't tell Ann that I have been speaking to you. I only wanted to set myself right with you and Tavy. I couldn't sit mumchance and have everything put on me.
TANNER. [politely] Quite so.
MRS WHITEFIELD. [dissatisfied] And now I've only made matters worse. Tavy's angry with me because I don't worship Ann. And when it's been put into my head that Ann ought to marry you, what can I say except that it would serve her right?
TANNER. Thank you.
MRS WHITEFIELD. Now don't be silly and twist what I say into something I don't mean. I ought to have fair play--