COLONEL. If I am visible behind Caroline. Madam, your servant. [_Aside to SYLVESTER._] Cheer up, Sylvester! I'll join you at the club, and we will wind the night up at the Empire. [_Exit after SYLVESTER, R. of flat._ MRS. SYLVESTER. That is so like a man! Doesn't say he's coming home, and then expects six courses and a savoury! GERALD. There is a difference between cold mutton and six courses, to say nothing of the savoury. MRS. SYLVESTER. It is a fine distinction, and in no way affects the validity of my argument. GERALD [_smiling_]. You mean, of your statement. MRS. SYLVESTER. Husbands are all alike. The ancient regarded his wife as a slave, the modern regards her as a cook. GERALD. Then they are _not_ alike. MRS. SYLVESTER [_emphatically_]. A man thinks of nothing but his stomach. GERALD. That is another proposition. MRS. SYLVESTER. You're very argumentative to-day. I haven't seen you for six weeks, and you've come home in a nasty, horrid temper! GERALD. I have been working so hard. MRS. SYLVESTER. Why is your face so brown? GERALD. Well, of course, I went out. MRS. SYLVESTER [_takes his hand_]. And why are your hands blistered? GERALD. I had a few pulls on the river; and being out of training---- MRS. SYLVESTER [_innocently_]. Were you stroke? [_Holding his hands._ GERALD. Not always. [_Bites his lip._ MRS. SYLVESTER. On, then you weren't alone? GERALD. I met an old friend up the river. MRS. SYLVESTER. Now I understand why you didn't write to me. [_Drops his hand and turns away pettishly._ GERALD. About the book? [_She gives him a quick glance._] Oh, I had nothing to say, except that I was getting on all right. I've written the first chapter. [_Produces MS._ MRS. SYLVESTER. And I've written the last. [_Opening portfolio._] Connoting the results of our arguments. GERALD. But where are the arguments? MRS. SYLVESTER. We'll put those in afterwards. [_GERALD looks at her._] That's how Victoria always writes her novels. She begins at the end. GERALD. But this is a work of philosophy. MRS. SYLVESTER [_pouting_]. Oh, you _are_ disagreeable! GERALD [_putting MS. aside_]. Don't let us talk philosophy to-day. I want to talk to you about something else. MRS. SYLVESTER [_cheerfully_]. Yes! GERALD. I have something to tell you. MRS. SYLVESTER. Interesting? [_Smiling._ GERALD. I'm in love. MRS. SYLVESTER. Oh! [_From this point her manner changes._ GERALD. Yes, in love, Mrs. Sylvester--in real love. MRS. SYLVESTER. What do you call real love? GERALD. Something quite different from what we had supposed. We've been on the wrong tack altogether. We have imagined something we have labelled love; we have put it into a crucible, and reduced it to its elements. MRS. SYLVESTER. And we have found those elements to be, community of interest and sympathy of soul. GERALD. But unfortunately for our theory, the thing we put into the crucible wasn't love at all. MRS. SYLVESTER.