LORD BROCKLEHURST. I didn’t. He wired me that he couldn’t come. LADY MARY (with a tremor). But he wrote you? LORD BROCKLEHURST. No. LADY MARY (a bird singing in her breast). You haven’t seen him since? LORD BROCKLEHURST. No. (She is saved. Is he to be let off also? Not at all. She bears down on him like a ship of war.) LADY MARY. George, who and what is this woman? LORD BROCKLEHURST (cowering). She was--she is--the shame of it--a lady’s-maid. LADY MARY (properly horrified). A what? LORD BROCKLEHURST. A lady’s-maid. A mere servant, Mary. (LADY MARY whirls round so that he shall not see her face.) I first met her at this house when you were entertaining the servants; so you see it was largely your father’s fault. LADY MARY (looking him up and down). A lady’s-maid? LORD BROCKLEHURST (degraded). Her name was Fisher. LADY MARY. My maid! LORD BROCKLEHURST (with open hands). Can you forgive me, Mary? LADY MARY. Oh George, George! LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother urged me not to tell you anything about it; but-- LADY MARY (from her heart). I am so glad you told me. LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see there was nothing wrong in it. LADY MARY (thinking perhaps of another incident). No, indeed. LORD BROCKLEHURST (inclined to simper again). And she behaved awfully well. She quite saw that it was because the boat was late. I suppose the glamour to a girl in service of a man in high position-- LADY MARY. Glamour!--yes, yes, that was it. LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother says that a girl in such circumstances is to be excused if she loses her head. LADY MARY (impulsively). George, I am so sorry if I said anything against your mother. I am sure she is the dearest old thing. LORD BROCKLEHURST (in calm waters at last). Of course for women of our class she has a very different standard. LADY MARY (grown tiny). Of course. LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see, knowing how good a woman she is herself, she was naturally anxious that I should marry some one like her. That is what has made her watch your conduct so jealously, Mary. LADY MARY (hurriedly thinking things out). I know. I--I think, George, that before your mother comes I should like to say a word to father. LORD BROCKLEHURST (nervously). About this? LADY MARY. Oh no; I shan’t tell him of this. About something else. LORD BROCKLEHURST. And you do forgive me, Mary? LADY MARY (smiling on him). Yes, yes. I--I am sure the boat was very late, George. LORD BROCKLEHURST (earnestly). It really was. LADY MARY. I am even relieved to know that you are not quite perfect, dear. (She rests her hands on his shoulders. She has a moment of contrition.) George, when we are married, we shall try to be not an entirely frivolous couple, won’t we? We must endeavour to be of some little use, dear. LORD BROCKLEHURST (the ass). Noblesse oblige. LADY MARY (haunted by the phrases of a better man). Mary Lasenby is determined to play the game, George.