MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Then you are going to allow your greatest friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some one who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you would have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I think you should. And the rest of your life you could spend in contemplating your own perfections. LORD GORING. Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that should be put down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad. MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You seem to forget that I know his real character. LORD GORING. What you know about him is not his real character. It was an act of folly done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I admit, unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his true character. MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other! LORD GORING. How you women war against each other! MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Bitterly_.] I only war against one woman, against Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever. LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, I suppose. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a sneer_.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in a woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and her future invariably her husband. LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to which you are alluding. MRS. CHEVELEY. A woman whose size in gloves is seven and three-quarters never knows much about anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven and three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was never any moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I suppose this romantic interview may be regarded as at an end. You admit it was romantic, don’t you? For the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender a great prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You decline. Very well. If Sir Robert doesn’t uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. _Voilà tout_. LORD GORING. You mustn’t do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous. MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Oh! don’t use big words. They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all. There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to sell Robert Chiltern a certain thing. If he won’t pay me my price, he will have to pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be said. I must go. Good-bye. Won’t you shake hands?