LORD GORING. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley!
LADY BASILDON. [Stiffly.] Please don't praise other women in our presence. You might wait for us to do that!
LORD GORING. I did wait.
MRS. MARCHMONT. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she went to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and dandies.
LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and the women are all dandies, aren't they?
MRS. MARCHMONT. [After a pause.] Oh! do you really think that is what Mrs. Cheveley meant?
LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley to make, too.
[Enter MABEL CHILTERN. She joins the group.]
MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody is talking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says-what did you say, Lord Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night.
LADY BASILDON. What a horrid combination! So very unnatural!
MRS. MARCHMONT. [In her most dreamy manner.] I like looking at geniuses, and listening to beautiful people.
LORD GORING. Ah! that is morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont!
MRS. MARCHMONT. [Brightening to a look of real pleasure.] I am so glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for seven years, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men are so painfully unobservant!
LADY BASILDON. [Turning to her.] I have always said, dear Margaret, that you were the most morbid person in London.
MRS. MARCHMONT. Ah! but you are always sympathetic, Olivia!
MABEL CHILTERN. Is it morbid to have a desire for food? I have a great desire for food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper?
LORD GORING. With pleasure, Miss Mabel. [Moves away with her.] MABEL CHILTERN. How horrid you have been! You have never talked to me the whole evening!
LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist.
MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have been only polite. I don't think I like you at all this evening!
LORD GORING. I like you immensely.
MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I wish you'd show it in a more marked way! [They go downstairs.]
MRS. MARCHMONT. Olivia, I have a curious feeling of absolute faintness. I think I should like some supper very much. I know I should like some supper.
LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret!
MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of these things.
LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material!