lord goring. Yes.
mrs. cheveley. And you asked me to be your wife.
lord goring. That was the natural result of my loving you.
mrs. cheveley. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you saw, poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with me in the conservatory at Tenby.
lord goring. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled that matter with you on certain terms . . . dictated by yourself.
mrs. cheveley. At that time I was poor; you were rich.
lord goring. Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me.
mrs. cheveley. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, who had only two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I never could quite make out which of the two he was talking about. He used the most horrible language about them both. Well, you were silly, Arthur. Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me than an amusement. One of those utterly tedious amusements one only finds at an English country house on an English country Sunday. I don’t think any one at all morally responsible for what he or she does at an English country house.
lord goring. Yes. I know lots of people think that.
mrs. cheveley. I loved you, Arthur.