Mrs. Allonby. Au revoir, Mr. Arbuthnot. Mind you bring me back something nice from your travels—not an Indian shawl—on no account an Indian shawl.
[Exeunt.]
Gerald. Mother, I have just written to him.
Mrs. Arbuthnot. To whom?
Gerald. To my father. I have written to tell him to come here at four o’clock this afternoon.
Mrs. Arbuthnot. He shall not come here. He shall not cross the threshold of my house.
Gerald. He must come.
Mrs. Arbuthnot. Gerald, if you are going away with Lord Illingworth, go at once. Go before it kills me: but don’t ask me to meet him.
Gerald. Mother, you don’t understand. Nothing in the world would induce me to go away with Lord Illingworth, or to leave you. Surely you know me well enough for that. No: I have written to him to say—
Mrs. Arbuthnot. What can you have to say to him?