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I can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not the Prime Minster’s day for seeing the unemployed.

      [Shakes hands with MABEL CHILTERN, takes up his hat and stick, and goes out, with a parting glare of indignation at LORD GORING.]

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Takes up roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl on the table.] People who don’t keep their appointments in the Park are horrid.

      LORD GORING. Detestable.

      MABEL CHILTERN. I am glad you admit it. But I wish you wouldn’t look so pleased about it.

      LORD GORING. I can’t help it. I always look pleased when I am with you.

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Sadly.] Then I suppose it is my duty to remain with you?

      LORD GORING. Of course it is.

      MABEL CHILTERN. Well, my duty is a thing I never do, on principle. It always depresses me. So I am afraid I must leave you.

      LORD GORING. Please don’t, Miss Mabel. I have something very particular to say to you.

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Rapturously.] Oh! is it a proposal?

      LORD GORING. [Somewhat taken aback.] Well, yes, it is — I am bound to say it is.

      MABEL CHILTERN. [With a sigh of pleasure.] I am so glad. That makes the second to-day.

      LORD GORING. [Indignantly.] The second to-day? What conceited ass has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to you before I had proposed to you?

      MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy’s days for proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, during the Season.

      LORD GORING. You didn’t accept him, I hope?

      MABEL CHILTERN. I make it a rule never to accept Tommy. That is why he goes on proposing. Of course, as you didn’t turn up this morning, I very nearly said yes. It would have been an excellent lesson both for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better manners.

      LORD GORING. Oh! bother Tommy Trafford. Tommy is a silly little ass. I love you.

      MABEL CHILTERN. I know. And I think you might have mentioned it before. I am sure I have given you heaps of opportunities.

      LORD GORING. Mabel, do be serious. Please be serious.

      MABEL CHILTERN. Ah! that is the sort of thing a man always says to a girl before he has been married to her. He never says it afterwards.

      LORD GORING. [Taking hold of her hand.] Mabel, I have told you that I love you. Can’t you love me a little in return?

      MABEL CHILTERN. You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about … anything, which you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Every one in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.

      LORD GORING. [Catches her in his arms and kisses her. Then there is a pause of bliss.] Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of being refused!

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Looking up at him.] But you never have been refused yet by anybody, have you, Arthur? I can’t imagine any one refusing you.

      LORD GORING. [After kissing her again.] Of course I’m not nearly good enough for you, Mabel.

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Nestling close to him.] I am so glad, darling. I was afraid you were.

      LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] And I’m … I’m a little over thirty.

      MABEL CHILTERN. Dear, you look weeks younger than that.

      LORD GORING. [Enthusiastically.] How sweet of you to say so! … And it is only fair to tell you frankly that I am fearfully extravagant.

      MABEL CHILTERN. But so am I, Arthur. So we’re sure to agree. And now I must go and see Gertrude.

      LORD GORING. Must you really? [Kisses her.]

      MABEL CHILTERN. Yes.

      LORD GORING. Then do tell her I want to talk to her particularly. I have been waiting here all the morning to see either her or Robert.

      MABEL CHILTERN. Do you mean to say you didn’t come here expressly to propose to me?

      LORD GORING. [Triumphantly.] No; that was a flash of genius.

      MABEL CHILTERN. Your first.

      LORD GORING. [With determination.] My last.

      MABEL CHILTERN. I am delighted to hear it. Now don’t stir. I’ll be back in five minutes. And don’t fall into any temptations while I am away.

      LORD GORING. Dear Mabel, while you are away, there are none. It makes me horribly dependent on you.

      [Enter LADY CHILTERN.]

      LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, dear! How pretty you are looking!

      MABEL CHILTERN. How pale you are looking, Gertrude! It is most becoming!

      LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, Lord Goring!

      LORD GORING. [Bowing.] Good morning, Lady Chiltern!

      MABEL CHILTERN. [Aside to LORD GORING.] I shall be in the conservatory under the second palm tree on the left.

      LORD GORING. Second on the left?

      MABEL CHILTERN. [With a look of mock surprise.] Yes; the usual palm tree.

      [Blows a kiss to him, unobserved by LADY CHILTERN, and goes out.]

      LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount of very good news to tell you. Mrs. Cheveley gave me up Robert’s letter last night, and I burned it. Robert is safe.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Sinking on the sofa.] Safe! Oh! I am so glad of that. What a good friend you are to him — to us!

      LORD GORING. There is only one person now that could be said to be in any danger.

      LADY CHILTERN. Who is that?

      LORD GORING. [Sitting down beside her.] Yourself.

      LADY CHILTERN. I? In danger? What do you mean?

      LORD GORING. Danger is too great a word. It is a word I should not have used. But I admit I have something to tell you that may distress you, that terribly distresses me. Yesterday evening you wrote me a very beautiful, womanly letter, asking me for my help. You wrote to me as one of your oldest friends, one of your husband’s oldest friends. Mrs. Cheveley stole that letter from my rooms.

      LADY CHILTERN. Well, what use is it to her? Why should she not have it?

      LORD GORING. [Rising.] Lady Chiltern, I will be quite frank with you. Mrs. Cheveley puts a certain construction on that letter and proposes to send it to your husband.

      LADY CHILTERN. But what construction could she put on it? … Oh! not that! not that! If I in — in trouble, and wanting your help, trusting you, propose to come to you … that you may advise me … assist me … Oh! are there women so horrible as that …? And she proposes to send it to my husband? Tell me what happened. Tell me all that happened.

      LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley was concealed in a room adjoining my library, without my knowledge. I thought that the person who was waiting in that room to see me was yourself. Robert came in unexpectedly. A chair or something fell in the room. He forced his way in, and he discovered her. We had a terrible scene. I still thought it was you. He left me in anger. At the end of everything Mrs. Cheveley got possession of your letter — she stole it, when or how, I don’t know.

      LADY CHILTERN. At what hour did this happen?

      LORD GORING. At half-past ten. And now I propose that we tell Robert the whole thing at once.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Looking at him with amazement that is almost terror.] You want me to tell Robert that the woman you expected

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