TRANTO (_beginning reflectively_). Now _I_ hit on that name--not my contributor. It was when I was down in Cornwall. I caught sight of it in an old yellow newspaper in an old yellow hotel, and it struck me at once what a fine signature it would make at the bottom of a slashing article. By the way, have you ever been in the dock? STRAIGHT. Dock? TRANTO. I only ask because I seem to remember I saw your splendid name in a report of the local Assizes. STRAIGHT. Assizes? TRANTO. A, double s (_pause_) i-z-e-s. STRAIGHT. I can afford to be perfectly open. I was--at one period of my career--in prison, but for a quite respectable crime. Bigamy--with extenuating circumstances. MRS. CULVER (_greatly upset_). Dear, dear! STRAIGHT. It might happen to any man. CULVER (_looking at_ Mrs. Culver). So it might. STRAIGHT. Do you wish to detain me? TRANTO. I simply haven't the heart to do it. STRAIGHT. Then, ladies and gentlemen, I'll say good morning. HILDEGARDE (_stopping_ Straight _near the door as he departs with more bows_). Good-bye! (_She holds out her hand with a smile_!) And good luck! STRAIGHT (_taking her hand_). Madam, I thank you. You evidently appreciate the fact that when one lives solely on one's wits, little mishaps are _bound_ to occur from time to time, and that too much importance ought not to be attached to them. This is only my third slip, and I am fifty-five. (_Exit, back_.) MRS. CULVER (_to_ Hildegarde, _gently surprised_). Darling, surely you need not have been quite so effusive! HILDEGARDE. You see, I thought I owed him something, (_with meaning and effect_) as it was I who stole his name. MRS. CULVER (_utterly puzzled for a moment; then, when she understands, rushing to_ Hildegarde _and embracing her_). Oh! My wonderful girl! JOHN (_feebly and still humiliated_). Stay me with flagons! HILDEGARDE (_to her mother_). How nice you are about it, mamma! MRS. CULVER. But I'm very proud, my pet. Of course I think you might have let me into the secret-- CULVER. None of us were let into the secret, Hermione--I mean until comparatively recent times. It was a matter between Hilda's conscience and her editor. MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'm not complaining. I'm so relieved she didn't write those dreadful cookery articles. HILDEGARDE. But do you mean to say you aren't frightfully shocked by my advanced politics, mamma? MRS. CULVER. My child, how naïve you are, after all! A woman is never shocked, though of course at times it may suit her to pretend to be. Only men are capable of being shocked. As for your advanced politics, as you call them, can't you see that it doesn't matter what you write so long as you are admired by the best people. It isn't views that are disreputable, it's the persons that hold them. CULVER. I hope that's why you so gracefully gave way over the baronetcy, my dear.