sir robert chiltern. In defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I have a right to use any weapon I can find, have I not?
lord goring. [Still looking in the glass.] In your place I don’t think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She is thoroughly well able to take care of herself.
sir robert chiltern. [Sits down at the table and takes a pen in his hand.] Well, I shall send a cipher telegram to the Embassy at Vienna, to inquire if there is anything known against her. There may be some secret scandal she might be afraid of.
lord goring. [Settling his buttonhole.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs. Cheveley is one of those very modern women of our time who find a new scandal as becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park every afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, and that the sorrow of her life at present is that she can’t manage to have enough of them.
sir robert chiltern. [Writing.] Why do you say that?
lord goring. [Turning round.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.
sir robert chiltern. [Striking a bell.] But it is worth while my wiring to Vienna, is it not?
lord goring. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth while answering one.
[Enter mason.]
sir robert chiltern. Is Mr. Trafford in his room?