LORD GORING. Yes, father, I prefer it domestic. LORD CAVERSHAM. And if you don’t make this young lady an ideal husband, I’ll cut you off with a shilling. MABEL CHILTERN. An ideal husband! Oh, I don’t think I should like that. It sounds like something in the next world. LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you want him to be then, dear? MABEL CHILTERN. He can be what he chooses. All I want is to be . . . to be . . . oh! a real wife to him. LORD CAVERSHAM. Upon my word, there is a good deal of common sense in that, Lady Chiltern. [_They all go out except_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. _He sinks in a chair_, _wrapt in thought_. _After a little time_ LADY CHILTERN _returns to look for him_.] LADY CHILTERN. [_Leaning over the back of the chair_.] Aren’t you coming in, Robert? SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Taking her hand_.] Gertrude, is it love you feel for me, or is it pity merely? LADY CHILTERN. [_Kisses him_.] It is love, Robert. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning. CURTAIN * * * * * * * * * * THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE