LADY CHILTERN. No; it will be much to gain.
[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN walks up and down the room with a troubled
expression. Then comes over to his wife, and puts his hand on her
shoulder.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And you would be happy living somewhere alone
with me, abroad perhaps, or in the country away from London, away
from public life? You would have no regrets?
LADY CHILTERN. Oh! none, Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Sadly.] And your ambition for me? You used
to be ambitious for me.
LADY CHILTERN. Oh, my ambition! I have none now, but that we two
may love each other. It was your ambition that led you astray. Let
us not talk about ambition.
[LORD GORING returns from the conservatory, looking very pleased with
himself, and with an entirely new buttonhole that some one has made
for him.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Going towards him.] Arthur, I have to thank
you for what you have done for me. I don't know how I can repay you.
[Shakes hands with him.]
LORD GORING. My dear fellow, I'll tell you at once. At the present
moment, under the usual palm tree . . . I mean in the conservatory .
. .
[Enter MASON.]
MASON. Lord Caversham.
LORD GORING. That admirable father of mine really makes a habit of
turning up at the wrong moment. It is very heartless of him, very
heartless indeed.
[Enter LORD CAVERSHAM. MASON goes out.]
LORD CAVERSHAM.
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