lord goring. Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount of very good news to tell you. Mrs. Cheveley gave me up Robert’s letter last night, and I burned it. Robert is safe.
lady chiltern. [Sinking on the sofa.] Safe! Oh! I am so glad of that. What a good friend you are to him—to us!
lord goring. There is only one person now that could be said to be in any danger.
lady chiltern. Who is that?
lord goring. [Sitting down beside her.] Yourself.
lady chiltern. I? In danger? What do you mean?
lord goring. Danger is too great a word. It is a word I should not have used. But I admit I have something to tell you that may distress you, that terribly distresses me. Yesterday evening you wrote me a very beautiful, womanly letter, asking me for my help. You wrote to me as one of your oldest friends, one of your husband’s oldest friends. Mrs. Cheveley stole that letter from my rooms.
lady chiltern. Well, what use is it to her? Why should she not have it?
lord goring. [Rising.] Lady Chiltern, I will be quite frank with you. Mrs. Cheveley puts a certain construction on that letter and proposes to send it to your husband.
lady chiltern. But what construction could she put on it? . . . Oh! not that! not that! If I in—in trouble, and wanting your help, trusting you, propose to come to you . . . that you may advise me . . . assist me . . . Oh! are there women so horrible as that . . .? And she proposes to send it to my husband? Tell me what happened. Tell me all that happened.