Yes, so did I. (_Leaning over and speaking confidentially._) An inordinate craving for respectability has been the ruin of me. Don't you ever give way to it. (_Cherry looks puzzled._) You see, Travers---- ADAM CHERRY. Your first? MRS. BEN DIXON. My _première_. He was a bit wild, and when he died, poor man, and left me with a pot of money, I said to myself, "Now, Belinda Travers, _nee_ Greggs, you've lived long enough in Bohemia. We'll just go in now for respectability; none of your mere Kensington or Hampstead sort, but the downright solid stuff." And so I just set to work to look for respectability, and (_with a motion towards Ben Dixon_) I found that! (_Looks across at him. He is standing in a beautiful attitude, beaming, his hands folded together, talking to Nelly._) That's not a respectable man. That's potted respectability. They must have boiled down a church to make that. I never thought that there was so much respectability in the world. _I'd_ never come across so much before, all at one time. ADAM CHERRY. And how do you like it? MRS. BEN DIXON. I don't like it. There's too much of it for me. I ought to have begun with small doses. My system can't stand it. I live in an atmosphere of respectability, and it's killing me. I never go anywhere that isn't respectable. I never do anything that isn't respectable. Until this blessed moment I haven't set eyes on anyone who isn't respectable. ADAM CHERRY. It must be very monotonous. MRS. BEN DIXON. Monotonous! It's suffocating! (_Suddenly_.) Cherry, you always were a good sort. You said you loved me once. ADAM CHERRY. (_Alarmed_) It was a long time ago, Belinda. MRS. BEN DIXON. I know it--fifteen years, if it's a day--but you can't have ceased to care for me altogether. Come and help me now. I'm going to the good man as fast as ever I can. For old love's sake come and hold me back a bit. Come down and spend a week with me. Come down and let me talk to you about the days when you and I and the rest of the crowd used to have sheep's-head suppers sent round from the local tripe-shop, and sit up till four o'clock in the morning, playing penny nap. ADAM CHERRY. Ah, they were jolly times, those, after all. Do you remember your first cigar? MRS. BEN DIXON. That's it--that's it! That's the sort of thing I _want_ to remember. That's the sort of thing I want to talk to you about. Will you come? ADAM CHERRY. Why, of course I will. Shall enjoy it. Where are you, and when shall---- (_Knock heard at door_). TED MORRIS. (_Who has been talking to Primrose._) Come in. (_Enter a waiter carrying a tray on which are two champagne bottles and some glasses._) WAITER. (_At door._) Meester Sherry? TED MORRIS. Yes, he's here--but this is not his room. ADAM CHERRY. Oh, it's all right, my dear Ted. (_To waiter_.) Yes, yes, put them down. I'll explain--I'll explain. WAITER. (_Putting down tray on table._) Shall I open zem, zir? ADAM CHERRY.