“I should suggest a drive in your chariot to some isolated spot in the country. Stay in some labourer’s cottage, and on the day which would have been the one appointed by you in our past Society for the wedding, I should advise you to spend it in the fields and to have a mutual confession;—what I would call a complete reckoning of your two inner lives; for that ought really to be the true meaning of marriage, which was so rarely understood in our past Society.” “This sounds very like Ibsen, dear Nettie,” remarked Eva. “But what do you suggest after that?” asked Gwen. “Stay away as long as you can; then return to your occupations here, for you know we cannot spare you for a very long time; there are so many things we want to launch before the season is over. Of course, no announcement of your marriage is required, you will tell your friends when you come back, and as to the rest of the world, it is immaterial whether they know it or not.” “It certainly seems simple enough, and in that way we escape all foolish questions.” “My dear Lord Somerville, I think that you will find that no one will take the slightest notice of your escapade. In London, what is past is seldom interesting,” added the little buffoon, who had for some time put this axiom to the test when she was on the Music Halls. “I believe you are right,” answered Lionel, “and the saddest tragedy of last week has no chance against the daily scandals.” “Society lives greatly on its own imagination”—the sententious humourist was taking a flight into speculative land. “Society is the biggest romancer you ever came across; it hates truth and _bona-fide_ dramas; despises the scandals that have not been spun at their own fireside; and follows to the letter the well-known maxim, that truth makes the worst fiction.” “Do you not think, Nettie, now marriage has become a grave reality, that the least said about it at large, the better?” “By all means; and the less seen of it the better still. Do not forget that this evening we go to the Circus to witness the first representation given by the Society of new stagers. You have no idea, my lord, what a bevy of young actors are coming to the fore to outshine the old ones.” “We were in sore need of real dramatic artists, owing to the utter inability of impersonating characters without wardrobe paraphernalia. Perhaps we shall be able in time to form a school of dramatic psychologists. But here comes Danford; he will tell us what is going on.” CHAPTER X “We were talking about the new study of dramatic art, Danford. I hear your Society is making great progress.”