CULVER. A quarter of a century--and you haven't learnt that no position is impregnable against--er--the sex! You never know where the offensive will come, nor when, nor how. The offensive is bound to be a surprise. You aren't married. When you are you'll soon find out that being a husband is a whole-time job. That's why so many husbands fail. They can't give their entire attention to it. Tranto, my position must be still further strengthened--during dinner. It can't be strengthened too much. I've brought you into the conspiracy because you're on the spot and I want you to play up. TRANTO. Certainly, sir. CULVER. The official letter _might_ come by to-night's post. If it does, a considerable amount of histrionic skill will be needed. TRANTO. Trust me for that. CULVER. Oh! I do! Indeed I fancy after all I'm fairly safe. There's only one danger. TRANTO. Yes? CULVER. My--I mean the sex, must hear of the offered title from me first. If the news came to her indirectly she'd-- _Enter_ Mrs. Culver _rapidly, back_. MRS. CULVER (_rushing to him_). Darling! Dearest! What a tease you are! You needn't pretend any longer. Lady Prockter has just whispered to me over the telephone that you're to have a baronetcy. Of course she'd be bound to know. She said I might tell you. I never _dreamed_ of a title. I'm so glad. Oh! But you _are_ a tease! (_Kisses him enthusiastically_.) CURTAIN. ACT II ACT II _The next day after dinner_. Culver _and_ Parlourmaid. CULVER (_handing_ Parlourmaid _a letter_). That's for the post. Is Miss Starkey here? PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir. She is waiting. CULVER. Ask her to be good enough to keep on waiting. She may come in when I ring twice. PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir. _Enter_ Mrs. Culver, _back_. MRS. CULVER (_to_ Parlourmaid, _stopping her as she goes out, dramatically_). Give me that letter. (_She snatches the letter from the_ Parlourmaid.) You can go. (Culver _rises_.) (_Exit_ Parlourmaid.) MRS. CULVER. I am determined to make a stand this time. CULVER (_soothingly_). So I see, darling. MRS. CULVER. I have given way to you all my life. But I won't give way now. This letter shall not go. CULVER. As you like, darling. MRS. CULVER. No. (_She tears the envelope open, without having looked at it, and throws the letter into the fire. In doing so she lets fall a cheque_.) CULVER (_rising and picking up the cheque_). I'll keep the cheque as a memento. MRS. CULVER. Cheque? What cheque? CULVER. Darling, once in the old, happy days--I think it was last week--you and I were walking down Bond Street, almost hand in hand, but not quite, and you saw a brooch in a shop window. You simply had to have that brooch. I offered it to you for a Christmas present. You are wearing it now, and very well it suits you. This (_indicating the cheque_) was to pay the bill. MRS. CULVER. Arthur! CULVER. Moral: Look before you burn. Miss Starkey will now have to write a fresh letter.