Phil. (crosses to Lord Normantower) Well, there’s one consolation. If it’s a difficult matter for a peer to make money, it’s very easy for him to marry it. (Sir Peter comes down to fire-place, R.)
Nor. Marry? Not me! No! I was born a bachelor, and am not going to fly in the face of Providence.
Phil. You don’t believe in marriage?
Nor. Of course there are exceptions; and I hope from the bottom of my heart, yours is one of them. I haven’t seen your wife yet, you know.
Phil. I’ve married a most charming woman, Ned—haven’t I, Sir Peter? (going to L. of table, R.C.)
Sir P. (picks up Punch from table, R.) Sir—your wife is my hostess, and one’s hostess is always charming. (bows and turns off—sitting R., reading)
Nor. A charming woman? You arouse painful memories. I once knew a charming woman. To be quite frank, I was engaged to one.
Phil. (goes to Lord Normantower) You have been engaged to be married! I never heard of it.
Nor. No, I kept it quiet. So did she. (Beatrice enters, C., from R., pausing to look in at window, R.C., and comes down behind chair, R.C.) At the time, there was not the remotest likelihood of my ever succeeding to the title, and of course I was hard up. I always was. A gilded calf appeared upon the scene; and the charming woman wrote me a charming letter, protesting eternal fidelity, and announcing her approaching marriage.
Phil. To the calf?