MABEL. It's terrible, such a thing—terrible!
MARGARET. [Gloomily] If only Ronny weren't known to be so broke.
MABEL. [With her hands to her forehead] I can't realise—I simply can't.
If there's a case would it be all right afterwards?
MARGARET. Do you remember St Offert—cards? No, you wouldn't—you were in high frocks. Well, St Offert got damages, but he also got the hoof, underneath. He lives in Ireland. There isn't the slightest connection, so far as I can see, Mabel, between innocence and reputation. Look at me!
MABEL. We'll fight it tooth and nail!
MARGARET. Mabel, you're pure wool, right through; everybody's sorry for you.
MABEL. It's for him they ought—
MARGARET. [Again handing the cigarette case] Do smoke, old thing.
MABEL takes a cigarette this time, but does not light it.
It isn't altogether simple. General Canynge was there last night. You don't mind my being beastly frank, do you?