There is no
name at the beginning of this letter. The brilliant Mrs. Cheveley
does not seem to have noticed that. There should be a name.
LADY CHILTERN. Let me write yours. It is you I trust and need. You
and none else.
LORD GORING. Well, really, Lady Chiltern, I think I should have back
my own letter.
LADY CHILTERN. [Smiling.] No; you shall have Mabel. [Takes the
letter and writes her husband's name on it.]
LORD GORING. Well, I hope she hasn't changed her mind. It's nearly
twenty minutes since I saw her last.
[Enter MABEL CHILTERN and LORD CAVERSHAM.]
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I think your father's conversation much
more improving than yours. I am only going to talk to Lord Caversham
in the future, and always under the usual palm tree.
LORD GORING. Darling! [Kisses her.]
LORD CAVERSHAM. [Considerably taken aback.] What does this mean,
sir? You don't mean to say that this charming, clever young lady has
been so foolish as to accept you?
LORD GORING. Certainly, father! And Chiltern's been wise enough to
accept the seat in the Cabinet.
LORD CAVERSHAM. I am very glad to hear that, Chiltern . . . I
congratulate you, sir. If the country doesn't go to the dogs or the
Radicals, we shall have you Prime Minister, some day.
[Enter MASON.]
MASON. Luncheon is on the table, my Lady!
[MASON goes out.]
MABEL CHILTERN. You'll stop to luncheon, Lord Caversham, won't you?
LORD CAVERSHAM.
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