I was so fortunate as to meet the carriage. LADY WARGRAVE. Theodore was late as usual. COLONEL. Only ten minutes, Caroline; but, as you know, time, tide, and your aunt wait for no man. LADY WARGRAVE. Now, Gerald, let me look at you. Your face to the light, please. [_GERALD stands for inspection. She takes a long look through her eye-glass._] I don't like that necktie. GERALD [_smiling and bowing_]. It shall be changed to-morrow, aunt. LADY WARGRAVE. To-day. [_GERALD bows. She takes another look._] That will do, Gerald. [_GERALD salutes. She drops her glasses._ COLONEL. Stand at ease! Dismiss! LADY WARGRAVE. Theodore, this is not a barracks! COLONEL. True. [_Bows._] Peccavi! LADY WARGRAVE [_addressing GERALD_]. I need hardly say with what pleasure I have followed your career at Oxford. It is worthy of a Cazenove. COLONEL. Brilliant--magnificent! LADY WARGRAVE. It is worthy of a Cazenove; that is all. [_COLONEL subsides, bowing._ GERALD. Yes, aunt, I flatter myself---- LADY WARGRAVE. Don't do that. You did your duty. Nothing more. GERALD. By the way, did you receive my poem? LADY WARGRAVE. Poem? GERALD. That won the Newdigate. I sent you a copy--to Rome. LADY WARGRAVE. Ah, I remember; I received the document. Tell me, were there many competitors? GERALD. A dozen or so. LADY WARGRAVE. Is it possible that Oxford can produce eleven worse poems than yours? GERALD. My dear aunt! [_COLONEL turns aside, chuckling, and finds himself face to face with MARGERY, laughing; both become suddenly serious._ MRS. SYLVESTER [_advancing_]. It is a work of genius--none but a true poet---- LADY WARGRAVE [_half rising. MARGERY steps forward to help her_]. I ask your pardon. Gerald, you haven't introduced me! GERALD. Forgive me, Mrs. Sylvester--forgive me, aunt, but in the excitement of seeing you---- LADY WARGRAVE. Sylvester! COLONEL. Wife of my old lieutenant. Captain now. LADY WARGRAVE. Wife of Jack Sylvester! I am pleased to meet you. I have known your husband almost from a boy. But I don't see him. [_Looking round._ GERALD [_confused_]. He has just gone. [_LADY WARGRAVE looks from one to another. Slight pause._ MRS. SYLVESTER. Mr. Cazenove and I are collaborating. LADY WARGRAVE. Oh! Captain Sylvester's wife is collaborating with _you?_ GERALD. On the ethics of marriage. MRS. SYLVESTER. Viewed from the standpoint of the higher morality. LADY WARGRAVE. Ah! [_Drops back into her seat, helped by MARGERY._] That will be a very interesting work.[_MARGERY retires up._] Did you do very much down at Mapledurham? GERALD. Not _very_ much, I'm afraid. MRS. SYLVESTER. Mr. Cazenove met a friend up the river. LADY WARGRAVE. A friend? Margery, you didn't tell me that. MARGERY [_advancing, and with a slight curtsey_]. I didn't know, my lady. MRS. SYLVESTER. An old friend. COLONEL. Perhaps the old friend was Margery herself? MRS. SYLVESTER [_perplexed and curious_]. Your maid was at Mapledurham?