Oh, yes, we shall; we cannot consent to remain at Aldershot any longer. At any moment a new movement in the world of Art or Letters may begin in London, and we shall not be in it. The thought is unendurable. We must go and pack at once.
[Exeunt.
Curtain.
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
After the second Mrs. Tanqueray killed herself at the end of the play which bears her name, it might be supposed that her husband would be content with his two successive failures in matrimony, and not tempt a third. But Aubrey, as his second marriage shows, was nothing if not courageous in matrimonial affairs, and we have therefore every reason to believe that he did marry again, while we have small ground for hoping that he chose his third wife with any greater wisdom than he chose the other two. That is the impression conveyed by the following pathetic scene.
THE THIRD MRS. TANQUERAY.
Scene.—The dining-room of Aubrey Tanqueray’s country house, Highercombe, in Surrey. A lean butler is standing at the sideboard. Aubrey and Cayley Drummle enter and go up to warm themselves at the fire, which burns feebly. The time is an evening in March, five years after the events of Mr. Pinero’s play, and Cayley looks quite five years stouter. Aubrey does not.