LORD SUMMERHAYS. My dear: after thirty years of managing other people's business, men lose the habit of considering what they want or dont want. HYPATIA. Oh, dont begin to talk about what men do, and about thirty years experience. If you cant get off that subject, youd better send for Johnny and papa and begin it all over again. LORD SUMMERHAYS. I'm sorry. I beg your pardon. HYPATIA. I asked you, didnt you want to come? LORD SUMMERHAYS. I did not stop to consider whether I wanted or not, because when I read your letter I knew I had to come. HYPATIA. Why? LORD SUMMERHAYS. Oh come, Miss Tarleton! Really, really! Dont force me to call you a blackmailer to your face. You have me in your power; and I do what you tell me very obediently. Dont ask me to pretend I do it of my own free will. HYPATIA. I dont know what a blackmailer is. I havnt even that much experience. LORD SUMMERHAYS. A blackmailer, my dear young lady, is a person who knows a disgraceful secret in the life of another person, and extorts money from that other person by threatening to make his secret public unless the money is paid. HYPATIA. I havnt asked you for money. LORD SUMMERHAYS. No; but you asked me to come down here and talk to you; and you mentioned casually that if I didnt youd have nobody to talk about me to but Bentley. That was a threat, was it not? HYPATIA. Well, I wanted you to come. LORD SUMMERHAYS. In spite of my age and my unfortunate talkativeness? HYPATIA. I like talking to you. I can let myself go with you. I can say things to you I cant say to other people. LORD SUMMERHAYS. I wonder why? HYPATIA. Well, you are the only really clever, grown-up, high-class, experienced man I know who has given himself away to me by making an utter fool of himself with me. You cant wrap yourself up in your toga after that. You cant give yourself airs with me. LORD SUMMERHAYS. You mean you can tell Bentley about me if I do. HYPATIA. Even if there wasnt any Bentley: even if you didnt care (and I really dont see why you should care so much) still, we never could be on conventional terms with one another again. Besides, Ive got a feeling for you: almost a ghastly sort of love for you. LORD SUMMERHAYS. _[shrinking]_ I beg you--no, please. HYPATIA. Oh, it's nothing at all flattering: and, of course, nothing wrong, as I suppose youd call it. LORD SUMMERHAYS. Please believe that I know that. When men of my age-- HYPATIA. _[impatiently]_ Oh, do talk about yourself when you mean yourself, and not about men of your age.