No difference?
GEORGE. 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.
GEORGE. But, Olivia, surely you understand the position----
OLIVIA (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. 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_.
OLIVIA (Joyfully). 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. I can't understand you, Olivia. You talk about it so calmly,
as if there was nothing blameworthy in being divorced, as if there was
nothing unusual in my marrying a divorced woman, as if there was
nothing wrong in our having lived together for years without having
been married.
OLIVIA.
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