the same time, the thing is utterly
and absolutely inexcusable--

LADY MARY (recovering her hauteur). Oh!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. And so I have already said to mother.

LADY MARY (disdaining him). You have told her?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Certainly, Mary, certainly; I tell mother everything.

LADY MARY (curling her lip). And what did she say?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. To tell the truth, mother rather pooh-poohed the
whole affair.

LADY MARY (incredulous). Lady Brocklehurst pooh-poohed the whole affair!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She said, 'Mary and I will have a good laugh over
this.'

LADY MARY (outraged). George, your mother is a hateful, depraved old
woman.

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary!

LADY MARY (turning away). Laugh indeed, when it will always be such a
pain to me.

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with strange humility). If only you would let me bear
all the pain, Mary.

LADY MARY (who is taken aback). George, I think you are the noblest
man--

(She is touched, and gives him both her hands. Unfortunately he
simpers.)

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She was a pretty little thing. (She stares, but he
marches to his doom.) Ah, not beautiful like you. I assure you it was
the merest flirtation; there were a few letters, but we have got them
back. It was all owing to the boat being so late at Calais. You see she
had such large, helpless eyes.

LADY MARY (fixing him). George, when you lunched with father to-day at
the club--

LORD BROCKLEHURST. I didn't. He wired me that he couldn't come.

LADY MARY (with a tremor). But he wrote you?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. No.

LADY MARY (a bird singing in her breast). You haven't seen him since?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. No.

(She is saved. Is he to be let off also? Not at all. She bears down on
him like a ship of war.)

LADY MARY. George, who and what is this woman?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (cowering). She was--she is--the shame of it--a
lady's-maid.

LADY MARY (properly horrified). A what?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. A lady's-maid. A mere servant, Mary. (LADY MARY
whirls round so that he shall not see her face.) I first met her at this
house when you were entertaining the servants; so you see it was largely
your father's fault.

LADY MARY (looking him up and down). A lady's-maid?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (degraded). Her name was Fisher.

LADY MARY. My maid!

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with open hands). Can you forgive me, Mary?

LADY MARY. Oh George, George!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother urged me not to tell you anything about