Cecil Graham. Darlington has got a woman here in his rooms. Here is her fan. Amusing, isn’t it? [A pause.]
Lord Windermere. Good God! [Seizes the fan—Dumby rises.]
Cecil Graham. What is the matter?
Lord Windermere. Lord Darlington!
Lord Darlington. [Turning round.] Yes!
Lord Windermere. What is my wife’s fan doing here in your rooms? Hands off, Cecil. Don’t touch me.
Lord Darlington. Your wife’s fan?
Lord Windermere. Yes, here it is!
Lord Darlington. [Walking towards him.] I don’t know!
Lord Windermere. You must know. I demand an explanation. Don’t hold me, you fool. [To Cecil Graham.]