Lord Illingworth. I am going to convert her, am I not? How long do you give me?
Mrs. Allonby. A week.
Lord Illingworth. A week is more than enough.
[Enter Gerald and Lord Alfred.]
Gerald. [Going to Mrs. Arbuthnot.] Dear mother!
Mrs. Arbuthnot. Gerald, I don’t feel at all well. See me home, Gerald. I shouldn’t have come.
Gerald. I am so sorry, mother. Certainly. But you must know Lord Illingworth first. [Goes across room.]
Mrs. Arbuthnot. Not to-night, Gerald.
Gerald. Lord Illingworth, I want you so much to know my mother.
Lord Illingworth. With the greatest pleasure. [To Mrs. Allonby.] I’ll be back in a moment. People’s mothers always bore me to death. All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy.