LADY CHILTERN. I think my husband is right in his determination, Lord Caversham. I approve of it. LORD CAVERSHAM. You approve of it? Good heavens! LADY CHILTERN. [_Taking her husband’s hand_.] I admire him for it. I admire him immensely for it. I have never admired him so much before. He is finer than even I thought him. [_To_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] You will go and write your letter to the Prime Minister now, won’t you? Don’t hesitate about it, Robert. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a touch of bitterness_.] I suppose I had better write it at once. Such offers are not repeated. I will ask you to excuse me for a moment, Lord Caversham. LADY CHILTERN. I may come with you, Robert, may I not? SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, Gertrude. [LADY CHILTERN _goes out with him_.] LORD CAVERSHAM. What is the matter with this family? Something wrong here, eh? [_Tapping his forehead_.] Idiocy? Hereditary, I suppose. Both of them, too. Wife as well as husband. Very sad. Very sad indeed! And they are not an old family. Can’t understand it. LORD GORING. It is not idiocy, father, I assure you. LORD CAVERSHAM. What is it then, sir? LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Well, it is what is called nowadays a high moral tone, father. That is all. LORD CAVERSHAM. Hate these new-fangled names. Same thing as we used to call idiocy fifty years ago. Shan’t stay in this house any longer. LORD GORING. [_Taking his arm_.] Oh! just go in here for a moment, father. Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree. LORD CAVERSHAM. What, sir? LORD GORING. I beg your pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory, father, the conservatory—there is some one there I want you to talk to. LORD CAVERSHAM. What about, sir? LORD GORING. About me, father. LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Grimly_.] Not a subject on which much eloquence is possible. LORD GORING. No, father; but the lady is like me. She doesn’t care much for eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud. [LORD CAVERSHAM _goes out into the conservatory_. LADY CHILTERN _enters_.] LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley’s cards? LADY CHILTERN. [_Startled_.] I don’t understand you. LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley made an attempt to ruin your husband. Either to drive him from public life, or to make him adopt a dishonourable position. From the latter tragedy you saved him. The former you are now thrusting on him. Why should you do him the wrong Mrs. Cheveley tried to do and failed? LADY CHILTERN. Lord Goring?