LORD GORING. You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern's letter,
haven't you?
MRS. CHEVELEY. To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guess
that?
LORD GORING. Because you haven't mentioned the subject. Have you
got it with you?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Sitting down.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no
pockets.
LORD GORING. What is your price for it?
MRS. CHEVELEY. How absurdly English you are! The English think that
a cheque-book can solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur,
I have very much more money than you have, and quite as much as
Robert Chiltern has got hold of. Money is not what I want.
LORD GORING. What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Why don't you call me Laura?
LORD GORING. I don't like the name.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You used to adore it.
LORD GORING. Yes: that's why. [MRS. CHEVELEY motions to him to sit
down beside her. He smiles, and does so.]
MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you loved me once.
LORD GORING. Yes.
MRS. CHEVELEY. And you asked me to be your wife.
LORD GORING. That was the natural result of my loving you.
MRS. CHEVELEY. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you
saw, poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with
me in the conservatory at Tenby.
LORD GORING. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that
matter with you on certain terms .
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