Why, my dear Mr. Murray, you’re actually putting men on a level with ladies. Ladies, I admit, are like nations--to be happy they should have no histories. But don’t you know that Marriage is the tomb of the Past, as far as a man is concerned? HUGH MURRAY. No, I don’t know it and I don’t believe it. LORD DANGARS. Oh, really---- HUGH MURRAY. You can’t lay the Past: it has an ugly habit of breaking its tomb. LORD DANGARS. Even then the shades of pretty women should not be such very bad company. [_Referring to his watch._] By Jove, a pleasant chat runs into one’s time. If you want me, “_Poste Restante_, Rome,” till you hear again. HUGH MURRAY. Going abroad, during the shooting? LORD DANGARS. I must, you know. This divorce business checks the pleasant flow of invitations for a season or two. So I shall spend a few months tranquilly in Italy and write a Society novel. HUGH MURRAY. A Society novel! LORD DANGARS. Yes--that seems the only thing left for a man whose reputation is a little off colour. Good-bye, Mr. Murray. HUGH MURRAY. Good-bye, Lord Dangars. Come this way. [_HUGH opens the door leading on to the staircase-landing._] LORD DANGARS. Excuse me, but didn’t I see Mr. Dunstan Renshaw enter your outer office just then? HUGH MURRAY. I am expecting Mr. Renshaw. Do you know him? LORD DANGARS. Know him! We’re bosom friends. HUGH MURRAY. Friends? You and Mr. Renshaw? Then of course you know that he is going to be married this morning. LORD DANGARS. Married! You’re joking! HUGH MURRAY. I have a perfectly serious engagement to accompany Mr. Renshaw to the Registrar’s in half-an-hour. LORD DANGARS. You! No! Ha, ha! That’s very good--that’s very good--that’s capital! HUGH MURRAY. Why does the idea of Mr. Renshaw’s marriage amuse you so much, Lord Dangars? LORD DANGARS. My dear Mr. Murray, I am not laughing at Renshaw’s marriage, but it tickles me confoundedly to think that you, my Quixotic young friend, are to assist at laying the marble slab upon dear old Dunstan’s bachelor days--and nights. HUGH MURRAY. You mean that Mr. Renshaw is not, according to my qualification, an eligible husband for a pure honest-hearted woman? LORD DANGARS. Oh, come, come, Mr. Murray, let us be men of the world. Renshaw’s a good fellow, just one of my own sort; that’s all I mean. [_HUGH turns away impatiently._] May I beg to know who’s the lady? HUGH MURRAY. Miss Leslie Brudenell--an orphan--my partner’s ward. LORD DANGARS. Money? I needn’t ask. HUGH MURRAY. If Miss Brudenell were penniless I should describe her as a millionaire. She is very sweet, very beautiful. LORD DANGARS. You’re enthusiastic. HUGH MURRAY.