BUILDER. Oh! This damned Woman's business! I knew how it would be when we gave you the vote. You and I are married, and our daughters are our daughters. Come, Julia. Where's your commonsense? After twenty-three years! You know I can't do without you! MRS BUILDER. You could--quite easily. You can tell people what you like. BUILDER. My God! I never heard anything so immoral in all my life from the mother of two grownup girls. No wonder they've turned out as they have! What is it you want, for goodness sake? MRS BUILDER. We just want to be away from you, that's all. I assure you it's best. When you've shown some consideration for our feelings and some real sign that we exist apart from you--we could be friends again-- perhaps--I don't know. BUILDER. Friends! Good heavens! With one's own wife and daughters! [With great earnestness] Now, look here, Julia, you haven't lived with me all this time without knowing that I'm a man of strong passions; I've been a faithful husband to you--yes, I have. And that means resisting all sorts of temptations you know nothing of. If you withdraw from my society I won't answer for the consequences. In fact, I can't have you withdrawing. I'm not going to see myself going to the devil and losing the good opinion of everybody round me. A bargain's a bargain. And until I've broken my side of it, and I tell you I haven't--you've no business to break yours. That's flat. So now, put all that out of your head. MRS BUILDER. No. BUILDER. [Intently] D'you realise that I've supported you in luxury and comfort? MRS BUILDER. I think I've earned it. BUILDER. And how do you propose to live? I shan't give you a penny. Come, Julia, don't be such an idiot! Fancy letting a kiss which no man could have helped, upset you like this! MRS BUILDER. The Camille, and the last straw! BUILDER. [Sharply] I won't have it. So now you know. But MRS BUILDER has very swiftly gone. Julia, I tell you-- [The outer door is heard being closed] Damnation! I will not have it! They're all mad! Here--where's my hat? He looks distractedly round him, wrenches open the door, and a moment later the street door is heard to shut with a bang. CURTAIN. ACT III SCENE I Ten o'clock the following morning, in the study of the Mayor of Breconridge, a panelled room with no window visible, a door Left back and a door Right forward. The entire back wall is furnished with books from floor to ceiling; the other walls are panelled and bare. Before the fireplace, Left, are two armchairs, and other chairs are against the walls. On the Right is a writing-bureau at right angles to the footlights, with a chair behind it. At its back corner stands HARRIS, telephoning.