lady basildon. [Languidly.] And were you interested?
mrs. marchmont. [Shaking her head.] Not in the smallest degree.
lady basildon. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret!
mrs. marchmont. [Rising.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia!
[They rise and go towards the music-room. The vicomte de nanjac, a young attaché known for his neckties and his Anglomania, approaches with a low bow, and enters into conversation.]
mason. [Announcing guests from the top of the staircase.] Mr. and Lady Jane Barford. Lord Caversham.
[Enter lord caversham, an old gentleman of seventy, wearing the riband and star of the Garter. A fine Whig type. Rather like a portrait by Lawrence.]
lord caversham. Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for-nothing young son been here?
lady chiltern. [Smiling.] I don’t think Lord Goring has arrived yet.
mabel chiltern. [Coming up to lord caversham.] Why do you call Lord Goring good-for-nothing?