GEORGE (_in despair_). You can't. (_Sits at writing-table_.) Everybody will know. Everybody! OLIVIA. The children, Aunt Julia, they may as well know now as later. Mr. Pim must, of course. GEORGE. I do not propose to discuss my private affairs with Mr. Pim---- OLIVIA. But he's mixed himself up in them rather, hasn't he, and if you're going to ask him questions---- GEORGE. I only propose to ask him one question. I shall ask him if he is absolutely certain of this fellow's name. I can do that quite easily without letting him know the reason for my inquiry. OLIVIA. You couldn't make a mistake about a name like Telworthy. But he might tell us something about Telworthy's plans. Perhaps he's going back to Australia at once. Perhaps he thinks I'm dead, too. Perhaps--oh, there are so many things I want to know. GEORGE. Yes, yes, dear. It would be interesting to--that is, one naturally wants to know these things, but of course it doesn't make any real difference. OLIVIA (_surprised_). No difference? GEORGE (_rising and coming down to back of settee_ L.). Well, that is to say, you're as much his wife if he's in Australia as you are if he's in England. OLIVIA. I am not his wife at all. (_Shaking her head_.) Jacob Telworthy may be alive, but I am not his wife. I ceased to be his wife when I became yours. GEORGE. You never _were_ my wife. (_Annoyed and crossing to_ R. _and back again to_ L.C.) That is the terrible part of it. Our union--you make me say it, Olivia--has been unhallowed by the Church. Unhallowed even by the Law. Legally, we have been living in--living in--well, the point is, how does the Law stand? I imagine that Telworthy could get a--a divorce.... Oh, it seems impossible that things like this can be happening to _us_. (_Going up_ C.) OLIVIA. A divorce? GEORGE. I--I imagine so. OLIVIA. But then we could _really_ get married, and we shouldn't be living in--living in--whatever we were living in before. GEORGE (_coming down to_ R. _of table_ L.C.). I can't understand you, Olivia. You talk about it so calmly, as if there was nothing blameworthy in being divorced. OLIVIA. Yes, but---- GEORGE. As if there was nothing unusual in my marrying a divorced woman. OLIVIA. Yes, but---- GEORGE. As if there was nothing wrong in our having lived together for years without having been married. OLIVIA (_placing her hands on table_). What seems wrong to me is that I lived for five years with a bad man whom I hated. What seems right to me is that I lived for five years with a good man whom I love. GEORGE (_taking and patting her hands affectionately_). Yes, yes, my dear, I know. (_Drops her hands and moves to_ C.) But right and wrong don't settle themselves as easily as that. We've been living together when you were Telworthy's wife. That's _wrong_. OLIVIA. Do you mean wicked? GEORGE. Well, no doubt the Court would consider that we acted in perfect innocence---- OLIVIA. What Court?