Parade's End2012

Sylvia Tietjens:
Your brother refers to me as "that whore". I haven't had a man, Christopher, in five years, and more. Not one. I haven't let myself be kissed or touched. Not once since Perowne. Potty Perowne! Can you see how I must have been feeling, to go off with a fool like Potty? I was not in my senses. I broke under your forbearance, your permanent well-mannered forgiveness for my doing the dirty on you, when I married you not knowing - still not knowing whether my child was yours or Gerald Drake's. You forgave without mercy. To scream blue murder and throw me out would have been a kindness. Compared to five years under your roof, banished from your comfort.