LADY CAROLINE. In that case, Lady Stutfield, they should be married off in a week to some plain respectable girl, in order to teach them not to meddle with other people’s property. MRS. ALLONBY. I don’t think that we should ever be spoken of as other people’s property. All men are married women’s property. That is the only true definition of what married women’s property really is. But we don’t belong to any one. LADY STUTFIELD. Oh, I am so very, very glad to hear you say so. LADY HUNSTANTON. But do you really think, dear Caroline, that legislation would improve matters in any way? I am told that, nowadays, all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men. MRS. ALLONBY. I certainly never know one from the other. LADY STUTFIELD. Oh, I think one can always know at once whether a man has home claims upon his life or not. I have noticed a very, very sad expression in the eyes of so many married men. MRS. ALLONBY. Ah, all that I have noticed is that they are horribly tedious when they are good husbands, and abominably conceited when they are not. LADY HUNSTANTON. Well, I suppose the type of husband has completely changed since my young days, but I’m bound to state that poor dear Hunstanton was the most delightful of creatures, and as good as gold. MRS. ALLONBY. Ah, my husband is a sort of promissory note; I’m tired of meeting him. LADY CAROLINE. But you renew him from time to time, don’t you? MRS. ALLONBY. Oh no, Lady Caroline. I have only had one husband as yet. I suppose you look upon me as quite an amateur. LADY CAROLINE. With your views on life I wonder you married at all. MRS. ALLONBY. So do I. LADY HUNSTANTON. My dear child, I believe you are really very happy in your married life, but that you like to hide your happiness from others. MRS. ALLONBY. I assure you I was horribly deceived in Ernest. LADY HUNSTANTON. Oh, I hope not, dear. I knew his mother quite well. She was a Stratton, Caroline, one of Lord Crowland’s daughters. LADY CAROLINE. Victoria Stratton? I remember her perfectly. A silly fair-haired woman with no chin. MRS. ALLONBY. Ah, Ernest has a chin. He has a very strong chin, a square chin. Ernest’s chin is far too square. LADY STUTFIELD. But do you really think a man’s chin can be too square? I think a man should look very, very strong, and that his chin should be quite, quite square. MRS. ALLONBY. Then you should certainly know Ernest, Lady Stutfield. It is only fair to tell you beforehand he has got no conversation at all. LADY STUTFIELD. I adore silent men. MRS. ALLONBY. Oh, Ernest isn’t silent. He talks the whole time. But he has got no conversation. What he talks about I don’t know. I haven’t listened to him for years. LADY STUTFIELD. Have you never forgiven him then? How sad that seems! But all life is very, very sad, is it not? MRS. ALLONBY. Life, Lady Stutfield, is simply a _mauvais quart d’heure_ made up of exquisite moments.