What is a Lady to do with a Husband when she has finished with him?

But men are so selfish.  The idea does not even occur to him; and the lady herself is too generous to do more than just hint at it.

Maybe it is Society that is to blame.  There comes a luminous moment when it is suddenly revealed to the Heroine of the Problem Play that it is Society that is at the bottom of this thing.  She has felt all along there was something the matter.  Why has she never thought of it before?  Here all these years has she been going about blaming her poor old father; her mother for dying too soon; the remarkable circumstances attending her girlhood; that dear old stupid husband she thought was hers; and all the while the really culpable party has been existing unsuspected under her very nose.  She clears away the furniture a bit, and tells Society exactly what she thinks of it—she is always good at that, telling people what she thinks of them.  Other people’s failings do not escape her, not for long.  If Society would only step out for a moment, and look at itself with her eyes, something might be done.  If Society, now that the thing has been pointed out to it, has still any lingering desire to live, let it look at her.  This, that she is, Society has made her!  Let Society have a walk round her, and then go home and reflect.