Francis and Betty have come to the lawyer together, and he rattles off the short list of grounds for divorce in New York State: Absence of a spouse, incurable insanity, life imprisonment, or adultery. Betty volunteers that Don hasn't been faithful, but when the guy asks if she has any witnesses or corroboration, she replies, "Not really." Damn, girl, you're not even trying here. I mean, if you're not going to call up Jimmy or Bobbie Barrett, at least pay one of Don's secretaries to give you some dirt. The lawyer goes on that it wouldn't matter anyway "with both parties at fault," earning him some babbling denials from Betty and this question from Francis: "You think the governor needs another scandal on the ticket?" I'd imagine that's not the most disingenuous use of that phrase in history, but that's still some nerve on Francis.
The lawyer hilariously puts his hand over his heart in consternation before apologizing to Betty for assuming anything, but says that the State of New York really doesn't want anyone to get divorced. I bet it cries a lot these days, then. He goes on, however, that there is another option -- go to Nevada for six weeks to establish residency, after which time they'll grant a quickie divorce without even requiring Don's presence. He adds that they'll need to discuss what she wants in terms of settlement, but when she offers that she'd like whatever she's entitled to, Francis turns to her, takes her hands, and says she doesn't need what Don can provide. Doing a bang-up job of selling the idea you're not involved, you two, and the way the lawyer twitches uncomfortably agrees with me. Betty points out that she has three kids, but Francis tells her he'll take care of them and her, and he doesn't want her owing Don anything. It's a ridiculous attitude that obviously has everything to do with his own ego, but given that I think Betty's whole attraction to Francis is tied up in her daddy issues, it's hardly a surprise that she accedes to his wish even though it easily could come back to bite her in the ass later. Francis tells the lawyer that they want the whole thing wrapped up as quickly as possible, and he'll get no argument from me on that front.
Pryce calls Powell and cheerfully relays the conversation he had with the partners, but is stunned when Powell tells him they had it right -- PPL is being sold as well. Pryce asks why he wasn't told, and Powell's response of "didn't seem pertinent" is cold enough, but when he adds that Pryce will be farmed out to McCann along with the rest of the SC chattel and that Pryce, after the transition, will prove himself irreplaceable "as you always do," I'm feeling the chill even though it's record-breakingly warm outside today. I mean, Powell himself would have replaced Pryce if not for the collaboration of John Deere and a drunken secretary. Pryce can barely speak, so overwhelmed with rage and betrayal is he, but Powell blithely goes on that he'll put in a good word for Pryce, as if his mind is going to have room for anything other than the astronomical number he's going to clear from the sale. And how to avoid paying taxes on it, I reckon. Pryce slams down the phone in disgust, and given that it doesn't look like he's ever going back to England, I'll forgive him the loss of self-control.