Really, the things that go on in front
of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere.
At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose
again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was
a bimetallist. Fortunately I don't know what bimetallism means. And I
don't believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed
Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so
annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice,
I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public.
But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be
romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy,
but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude,
you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often
enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a
manner that attracts some attention.

LADY CHILTERN. Dear Mabel, don't talk like that. Besides, Robert thinks
very highly of Mr. Trafford. He believes he has a brilliant future
before him.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I wouldn't marry a man with a future before him for
anything under the sun.

LADY CHILTERN. Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. I know, dear. You married a man with a future, didn't
you? But then Robert was a genius, and you have a noble,
self-sacrificing character. You can stand geniuses. I have no character
at all, and Robert is the only genius I could ever bear. As a rule, I
think they are quite impossible. Geniuses talk so much, don't they?
Such a bad habit! And they are always thinking about themselves, when I
want them to be thinking about me. I must go round now and rehearse at
Lady Basildon's. You remember, we are having tableaux, don't you? The
Triumph of something, I don't know what! I hope it will be triumph of
me. Only triumph I am really interested in at present. [_Kisses_ LADY
CHILTERN _and goes out_; _then comes running back_.] Oh, Gertrude, do
you know who is coming to see you? That dreadful Mrs. Cheveley, in a
most lovely gown. Did you ask her?

LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] Mrs. Cheveley! Coming to see me?
Impossible!

MABEL CHILTERN. I assure you she is coming upstairs, as large as life
and not nearly so natural.

LADY CHILTERN. You need not wait, Mabel. Remember, Lady Basildon is
expecting you.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I must s