décolleté one, and they are excessively popular nowadays. Besides, my dear Robert, I should not build too high hopes on frightening Mrs. Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a woman who would be easily frightened. She has survived all her creditors, and she shows wonderful presence of mind.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! I live on hopes now. I clutch at every chance. I feel like a man on a ship that is sinking. The water is round my feet, and the very air is bitter with storm. Hush! I hear my wifeâs voice.
[Enter LADY CHILTERN in walking dress.]
LADY CHILTERN. Good afternoon, Lord Goring!
LORD GORING. Good afternoon, Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the Park?
LADY CHILTERN. No; I have just come from the Womanâs Liberal Association, where, by the way, Robert, your name was received with loud applause, and now I have come in to have my tea. [To LORD GORING.] You will wait and have some tea, wonât you?
LORD GORING. Iâll wait for a short time, thanks.
LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take my hat off.
LORD GORING. [In his most earnest manner.] Oh! please donât. It is so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Womanâs Liberal Association received it with loud applause.
LADY CHILTERN. [With a smile.] We have much more important work to do than look at each otherâs bonnets, Lord Goring.
LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work?
LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female Inspectors, the Eight Hoursâ Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise. . . . Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly uninteresting.
LORD GORING. And never bonnets?
LADY CHILTERN. [With mock indignation.] Never bonnets, never!
[LADY CHILTERN goes out through the door leading to her boudoir.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Takes LORD GORING goringâs hand.] You have been a good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend.
LORD GORING. I donât know that I have been able to do much for you, Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, as far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. That is something. The truth has always stifled me.
LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as possible! Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the club . . . with the older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps it is.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the truth . . . to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to live the truth. [Sighs, and goes towards the door.] Iâll see you soon again, Arthur, shanât I?
LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. Iâm going to look in at the Bachelorsâ Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. But Iâll come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to-night by any chance, send round a note to Curzon Street.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you.
[As he reaches the door, LADY CHILTERN enters from her boudoir.]
LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I have some letters to write, dear.
LADY CHILTERN. [Going to him.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem never to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is nothing, dear, nothing.
[He kisses her and goes out.]
LADY CHILTERN. [To LORD GORING.] Do sit down. I am so glad you have called. I want to talk to you about . . . well, not about bonnets, or the Womanâs Liberal Association. You take far too much interest in the first subject, and not nearly enough in the second.
LORD GORING. You want to talk to me about Mrs. Cheveley?
LADY CHILTERN. Yes. You have guessed it. After you left last night I found out that what she had said was really true. Of course I made Robert write her a letter at once, withdrawing his promise.
LORD GORING. So he gave me to understand.
LADY CHILTERN. To have