LADY WINDERMERE. Don’t spoil it by saying extravagant silly things to me. You think I am a Puritan, I suppose? Well, I have something of the Puritan in me. I was brought up like that. I am glad of it. My mother died when I was a mere child. I lived always with Lady Julia, my father’s elder sister, you know. She was stern to me, but she taught me what the world is forgetting, the difference that there is between what is right and what is wrong. _She_ allowed of no compromise. _I_ allow of none. LORD DARLINGTON. My dear Lady Windermere! LADY WINDERMERE. [_Leaning back on the sofa_.] You look on me as being behind the age.—Well, I am! I should be sorry to be on the same level as an age like this. LORD DARLINGTON. You think the age very bad? LADY WINDERMERE. Yes. Nowadays people seem to look on life as a speculation. It is not a speculation. It is a sacrament. Its ideal is Love. Its purification is sacrifice. LORD DARLINGTON. [_Smiling_.] Oh, anything is better than being sacrificed! LADY WINDERMERE. [_Leaning forward_.] Don’t say that. LORD DARLINGTON. I do say it. I feel it—I know it. [_Enter_ PARKER _C._] PARKER. The men want to know if they are to put the carpets on the terrace for to-night, my lady? LADY WINDERMERE. You don’t think it will rain, Lord Darlington, do you? LORD DARLINGTON. I won’t hear of its raining on your birthday! LADY WINDERMERE. Tell them to do it at once, Parker. [_Exit_ PARKER _C._] LORD DARLINGTON. [_Still seated_.] Do you think then—of course I am only putting an imaginary instance—do you think that in the case of a young married couple, say about two years married, if the husband suddenly becomes the intimate friend of a woman of—well, more than doubtful character—is always calling upon her, lunching with her, and probably paying her bills—do you think that the wife should not console herself? LADY WINDERMERE. [_Frowning_.] Console herself? LORD DARLINGTON. Yes, I think she should—I think she has the right. LADY WINDERMERE. Because the husband is vile—should the wife be vile also? LORD DARLINGTON. Vileness is a terrible word, Lady Windermere. LADY WINDERMERE. It is a terrible thing, Lord Darlington. LORD DARLINGTON. Do you know I am afraid that good people do a great deal of harm in this world. Certainly the greatest harm they do is that they make badness of such extraordinary importance. It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious. I take the side of the charming, and you, Lady Windermere, can’t help belonging to them. LADY WINDERMERE. Now, Lord Darlington. [_Rising and crossing R._, _front of him_.] Don’t stir, I am merely going to finish my flowers. [_Goes to table R.C._]