mrs. marchmont. [Drawing herself up.] Oh, dear no! They are as happy as possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much they trust us.
lady basildon. Perfectly tragic!
lord goring. Or comic, Lady Basildon?
lady basildon. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you to suggest such a thing!
mrs. marchmont. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, as usual. I saw him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in.
lord goring. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley!
lady basildon. [Stiffly.] Please don’t praise other women in our presence. You might wait for us to do that!
lord goring. I did wait.
mrs. marchmont. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she went to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and dandies.
lord goring. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and the women are all dandies, aren’t they?