LORD GORING. It is not idiocy, father, I assure you.
LORD CAVERSHAM. What is it then, sir?
LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Well, it is what is called
nowadays a high moral tone, father. That is all.
LORD CAVERSHAM. Hate these new-fangled names. Same thing as we used
to call idiocy fifty years ago. Shan't stay in this house any
longer.
LORD GORING. [Taking his arm.] Oh! just go in here for a moment,
father. Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree.
LORD CAVERSHAM. What, sir?
LORD GORING. I beg your pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory,
father, the conservatory - there is some one there I want you to talk
to.
LORD CAVERSHAM. What about, sir?
LORD GORING. About me, father,
LORD CAVERSHAM. [Grimly.] Not a subject on which much eloquence is
possible.
LORD GORING. No, father; but the lady is like me. She doesn't care
much for eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud.
[LORD CAVERSHAM goes out into the conservatory. LADY CHILTERN
enters.]
LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley's
cards?
LADY CHILTERN. [Startled.] I don't understand you.
LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley made an attempt to ruin your husband.
Either to drive him from public life, or to make him adopt a
dishonourable position. From the latter tragedy you saved him. The
former you are now thrusting on him. Why should you do him the wrong
Mrs.
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