Enter ENID. COLONEL [_to SYLVESTER_]. The best of 'em! [_ENID shakes hands with LADY WARGRAVE._] Ah, what a pity, what a pity, Sylvester! SYLVESTER. What is a pity, Colonel? COLONEL. That such a figure should be wasted! SYLVESTER [_in a matter of course voice_]. I prefer Mrs. Cazenove's. [_Turns off. COLONEL eyes him curiously. The other Guests should be so arranged that each man is surrounded by a little group of women._ PERCY [_the centre of one group, lolling lazily, always smiling with self-complacency, suddenly sits up and shivers_]. No, no! don't mention it. It bores me so. [_Shivers._ CHORUS. And me! [_All shiver._ VICTORIA. The stage has ever been Woman's greatest foe. GUEST. For centuries it has shirked the sexual problem. SYLVESTER [_who has strolled up_]. But doesn't it show signs of repentance? PERCY. The theatre is dying. SYLVESTER. Death-bed repentance, then. That's the one problem it discusses. GUEST. It is the one problem in life. PERCY. The theatre is dying! Dixi! [_Leans back again._ DOCTOR. The novel will sweep everything before it. SYLVESTER. You mean, the female novel? DOCTOR. Nothing can stop it. SYLVESTER. No, it stops at nothing. DOCTOR. Nor will it, till the problem is solved. That solution, I venture to predict, will be on the lines of pure mathematics. SYLVESTER. Really? [_Smothering a yawn._ DOCTOR. I put the proposition in this way. The sexes are parallel lines. SYLVESTER. Which are bound to meet. DOCTOR. I must not be taken to admit, that there is any physiological necessity. VOICES. Certainly not. DOCTOR [_to LADY WARGRAVE, who is passing_]. I am sure, Lady Wargrave must agree with us. LADY WARGRAVE. What is that, Doctor? DOCTOR. That there is no physiological necessity---- LADY WARGRAVE. To discuss physiology? I am quite of your opinion. [_Passes on._ ENID [_who is in a group surrounding COLONEL]._ That's where we differ. What is _your_ view, Colonel? COLONEL. My dear Miss Bethune, there is no occasion for Man to express _any_ view, when Woman expresses them all. First, you must reconcile your internal differences. VOICE. But we can't. COLONEL. To begin with, you must make up your minds whether you wish to regenerate us or to degrade yourselves. ENID. Regenerate you, of course. COLONEL. Miss Vivash prefers the alternative. ENID. That is Victoria's foible. COLONEL [_gallantly_]. I can admit no foible in a lady. ENID. At any rate, we are agreed on the main point--the equality of the sexes. COLONEL. That, alas, is impossible. VOICE. Impossible? COLONEL. Whilst Woman persists in remaining perfect. VICTORIA. Cannot Man emulate her? COLONEL. I am afraid his strength is only equal to the confession of his unworthiness. ENID. You would confess that? Then you agree with me, that a woman is entitled to know the whole of a man's past? LADY WARGRAVE [_who has joined them_].