And I see you don't know where the spring is. It is rather difficult
to find.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [She tries again to unclasp
the bracelet, but fails.]
LORD GORING. Oh! don't use big words. They mean so little.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage,
with inarticulate sounds. Then stops, and looks at LORD GORING.]
What are you going to do?
LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable
servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he
comes I will tell him to fetch the police.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Trembling.] The police? What for?
LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is
what the police are for.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Is now in an agony of physical terror. Her face is
distorted. Her mouth awry. A mask has fallen from her. She it, for
the moment, dreadful to look at.] Don't do that. I will do anything
you want. Anything in the world you want.
LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think.
LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern's letter.
MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you to-
morrow.
LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS.
CHEVELEY pulls the letter out, and hands it to him. She is horribly
pale.] This is it?
MRS.
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