class="spkr">LADY WARGRAVE.

Ah! [Drops back into her seat, helped by Margery.] That will be a very interesting work.[Margery retires up.] Did you do very much down at Mapledurham?

GERALD.

Not very much, I’m afraid.

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Mr. Cazenove met a friend up the river.

LADY WARGRAVE.

A friend? Margery, you didn’t tell me that.

MARGERY [advancing, and with a slight curtsey].

I didn’t know, my lady.

MRS. SYLVESTER.

An old friend.

COLONEL.

Perhaps the old friend was Margery herself?

MRS. SYLVESTER [perplexed and curious].

Your maid was at Mapledurham?

LADY WARGRAVE.

Her father lives there. Theodore, don’t you think Margery looks all the better for her holiday?

COLONEL [with enthusiasm].

If it is possible——

LADY WARGRAVE.

Theodore! [Aside to him, stopping his mouth with her fan.]

COLONEL [subsides].

Peccavi! [Sotto voce.]

LADY WARGRAVE.

Doesn’t she look brown?

GERALD.

Well, up the river everybody does. It was hot weather, too.

LADY WARGRAVE.

It must have been. You should have seen her hands. They were all over blisters.

COLONEL.

Ah, that was the rowing!

[Pantomime as before.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Margery! [Margery casts down her eyes.] You were rowing?

MARGERY.

Sometimes, my lady.

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Stroke. [Looking at Gerald.]

[Lady Wargrave, watching Mrs. Sylvester, motions to Margery, who retires up.

COLONEL [aside to Lady Wargrave].

Caroline, you took the water very neatly.

LADY WARGRAVE [aside to Colonel].

The higher morality has caught a crab.

MRS. SYLVESTER [gathers up MS. into her portfolio].

I will not trespass any longer, Mr. Cazenove. No doubt, your aunt has much to say to you.

GERALD.

But won’t you stay to tea?

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Thanks. Captain Sylvester dines early.

COLONEL [aside].

At the club!

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Good day to you, Lady Wargrave. [Lady Wargrave is about to rise.] Pray don’t rise. [Bows to the Colonel and goes to door in flat where Gerald is waiting for her.] Don’t trouble; I know my way.

[Exit.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Poor Sylvester! He was such a nice boy! [Gerald comes down.] Gerald, can Margery wait in the next room?

[Gerald opens door R. Exit Margery R.

GERALD [returning].

And how have you been, aunt? You never mentioned your health in your letters. Are you better?

LADY WARGRAVE.

I mustn’t complain; but Providence is really most unjust. Here am I, who have lived a life of temperance, in my old age——

COLONEL.

Middle age, Caroline!

[Bowing.

LADY WARGRAVE [smiling].

A chronic invalid; while this old transgressor who has denied himself nothing [Colonel grins], and committed every sin in the Decalogue [Colonel chuckles], is as hale and as hearty as I am infirm.

COLONEL.

Never felt better, never!

LADY WARGRAVE.

But how have you been, Gerald? We belong to the past——

COLONEL.

Caroline!

LADY WARGRAVE.

You belong to the future, and the future belongs to you.

GERALD.

Oh, I’ve been all right!

[A little recklessly.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Quite sure you suffer from nothing?

GERALD.

What do you mean?

LADY WARGRAVE.

Your letters have told me a great deal—more than perhaps you know; but I have read them very carefully; and when you asked me to come home——

GERALD.

I didn’t, aunt.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Between the lines.

GERALD [laughing].

What did I say to you between the lines?

[Kneeling by her.

LADY WARGRAVE.

You told me that you had learned everything Oxford has to teach worth learning, and that you were in danger of becoming—well [laying her hand on his head]—shall we say, tête montée?

COLONEL.

Yes, Caroline! I should certainly say, tête montée.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Cure yourself, Gerald. Knowledge is not wisdom [stroking his head]. Forgive me, dear; but I have known so many men who have never survived the distinctions of their youth, who are always at Oxford, and even in their manhood play with rattles. Now, forget Oxford—go into the world—lay books aside, and study men.

COLONEL.

And women.

LADY WARGRAVE.

Yes—and women.

[Knock without.

GERALD [rising].

Just what I’m doing!

[Female voices in altercation. Re-enter Wells, door in flat.

WELLS.

Miss Bethune, Miss Vivash.

Enter Enid and Victoria, in hot argument. They take opposite sides of the stage and continue the discussion without taking the slightest notice of anybody. Lady Wargrave looks from the one to the other in amazement. Exit Wells, door in flat.

ENID.

I can’t agree with you! Say what you will, I can’t agree with you!

VICTORIA.

That doesn’t alter the fact. A woman has just as much right to a latchkey as a man.

ENID.

But a man has no right to a latchkey.