VIVIEN. Suppose it is. Then his work will have to get along the best
way it can. (_She turns at the door_.) Do I look like a loser?--or
a winner!
GUENEVERE. I'll bet on you, Vivien.
VIVIEN. Thanks, darling. And bye-bye.
GUENEVERE. (_stopping her_) But Vivien--! I've been racking my brain to
think who--? _Do_ tell me!
VIVIEN. (_in the doorway, defiantly_) Well, if you must know--it's
Lancelot Jones.
GUENEVERE. (_springing up, amazed, incredulous and horrified_) Oh,
_no_, Vivien! Not Lancelot!
VIVIEN. Absolutely yes.
GUENEVERE. But--but he's married already!
VIVIEN. Oh, is _that_ what's bothering you?
GUENEVERE. I should rather think it would bother _you_, Vivien!
VIVIEN. But it so happens that it doesn't. I'm not breaking up a
marriage. There isn't any marriage there to break up. I know all about
it. Lancelot told me. That marriage was ended long ago. It's simply
that he has never got a divorce.
GUENEVERE. But--but if that's true, why _hasn't_ he got a divorce?
VIVIEN. On purpose, Gwen--as a protection! Against love-sick females
like me. Against getting married again. I told you he wanted to work.