SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. I find that little things are so very difficult to do.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [After a moment's reflection.] No, I don't think it is quite a little thing.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [Rises.] And now may I walk through your beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron Arnheim-you remember the Baron?-used to tell me you had some wonderful Corots.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With an almost imperceptible start.] Did you know Baron Arnheim well?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Smiling.] Intimately. Did you?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn't he?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] He was very remarkable, in many ways.
MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs.
They would have been most interesting.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the old Greek.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelope waiting at home for him.
MASON. Lord Goring.
[Enter LORD GORING. Thirty-four, but always says he is younger. A well-bred, expressionless face. He is clever, but would not like to be thought so. A flawless dandy, he would be annoyed if he were considered romantic. He plays with life, and is on perfectly good terms with the world. He is fond of being misunderstood. It gives him a post of vantage.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, allow me to introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London.
MRS. CHEVELEY. I have met Lord Goring before.
LORD GORING. [Bowing.] I did not think you would remember me, Mrs. Cheveley.
MRS. CHEVELEY. My memory is under admirable control. And are you still a bachelor?
LORD GORING. I . . . believe so.
MRS. CHEVELEY. How very romantic!
LORD GORING. Oh! I am not at all romantic. I am not old enough. I leave romance to my seniors.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Lord Goring is the result of Boodle's Club, Mrs. Cheveley.
MRS. CHEVELEY. He reflects every credit on the institution.
LORD GORING. May I ask are you staying in London long?
MRS. CHEVELEY. That depends partly on the weather, partly on the cooking, and partly on Sir Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are not going to plunge us into a European war, I hope?
MRS. CHEVELEY. There is no danger, at present!
[She nods to LORD GORING, with a look of amusement in her eyes, and goes out with SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. LORD GORING saunters over to MABEL CHILTERN.]
MABEL CHILTERN. You are very late!