(Looking over at Ben Dixon.) But, you know, somehow or other, I pictured such a different sort of man.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Yes, so did I. (Leaning over and speaking confidentially.) An inordinate craving for respectability has been the ruin of me. Don't you ever give way to it. (Cherry looks puzzled.) You see, Travers——
ADAM CHERRY.
Your first?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
My première. He was a bit wild, and when he died, poor man, and left me with a pot of money, I said to myself, "Now, Belinda Travers, nee Greggs, you've lived long enough in Bohemia. We'll just go in now for respectability; none of your mere Kensington or Hampstead sort, but the downright solid stuff." And so I just set to work to look for respectability, and (with a motion towards Ben Dixon) I found that! (Looks across at him. He is standing in a beautiful attitude, beaming, his hands folded together, talking to Nelly.) That's not a respectable man. That's potted respectability. They must have boiled down a church to make that. I never thought that there was so much respectability in the world. I'd never come across so much before, all at one time.
ADAM CHERRY.
And how do you like it?