ent I
considered it a gross impertinence.

ST. OLPHERTS. Written requests are so dependent on a sympathetic
reader.

AGNES. That meeting might have saved you time and trouble.

ST. OLPHERTS. I grudge neither.

AGNES. It might perhaps have shown your Grace that your view of life is
too narrow; that your method of dealing with its problems wants
variety; that, in point of fact, your employment upon your present
mission is distinctly inappropriate. Our meeting today may serve the
same purpose.

ST. OLPHERTS. My view of life?

AGNES. That all men and women may safely be judged by the standards of
the casino and the dancing-garden.

ST. OLPHERTS. I have found those standards not altogether
untrustworthy. My method--?

AGNES. To scoff, to sneer, to ridicule.

ST. OLPHERTS. Ah! And how much is there, my dear Mrs. Ebbsmith,
belonging to humanity that survives being laughed at?

AGNES. More than you credit, Duke. For example, I--I think it possible
you may not succeed in grinning away the compact between Mr. Cleeve and
myself?

ST. OLPHERTS. Compact?

AGNES. Between serious man and woman.

ST. OLPHERTS. Serious woman.

AGNES. Ah! At least you must see that--serious woman. [Rising, facing
him.] You can't fail to realise, even from this slight personal
knowledge of me, that you are not dealing just now with some poor,
feeble ballet-girl.

ST. OLPHERTS. But how well you put it! [Rising.] And how frank of you
to furnish, as it were, a plan of the fortifications to the--the--

AGNES. Why do you stick at "enemy"?

ST. OLPHERTS. It's not the word. Opponent! For the moment, perhaps,
opponent. I am never an enemy, I hope, where your sex is concerned.

AGNES. No, I am aware that you are not over-nice in the bestowal of
your patronage--where my sex is concerned.

ST. OLPHERTS. You regard my appearance in an affair of morals as a
quaint one?

AGNES. Your Grace is beginning to know me.

ST. OLPHERTS. Dear lady, you take pride, I hear, in belonging to--The
People. You would delight me amazingly by giving me an inkling of the
popular notion of my career.

AGNES. [Walking away.] Excuse me.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Following her.] Please! It would be instructive, perhaps
chastening. I entreat.

AGNES. No.

ST OLPHERTS. You are letting sentiment intrude itself. [Sitting, in
pain.] I challenge you.

AGNES. At Eton you were curiously precocious. The head-master,
referring to your aptitude with books, prophesied a brilli