_Lord Dol._ It does not seem my place to interfere, and love-affairs are not a fit subject of conversation between father and son! _Soame._ But what does Cyril say to the matrimonial prospect? _Lord Dol._ He seems melancholy and eats nothing but oranges. Yes, Cyril is a source of great uneasiness. _Soame._ Does Lady Doldrummond share this uneasiness? _Lord Dol._ My wife would regard a second thought on any subject as a most dangerous form of temptation. She insists that Cyril has everything which a young man could desire, and when he complains that the house is dull, she takes him for a drive! _Soame._ But _you_ understand him? _Lord Dol._ I think I do. If I were young again---- _Soame._ Ah, you regret! I always said you would regret it if you did not take your fling! The pleasures we imagine are so much more alluring, so much more dangerous, than those we experience. I suppose you recognise in Cyril the rascal you might have been, and feel that you have missed your vocation? _Lord Dol._ [_Meekly._] I was never unruly, my dear Soame. We all have our moments, I own, yet--well, perhaps Cyril has inherited the tastes which I possessed at his age, but lacked the courage to obey. _Soame._ And so you wish me to advise you how to deal with him! Is he in love? I have constantly observed that when young men find their homes unsympathetic, it is because some particular lady does not form a member of the household. It is usually a lady, too, who would not be considered a convenient addition to any mother's visiting-list! _Lord Dol._ Lady Doldrummond has taught him that women are the scourges of creation. You, perhaps, do not share that view! _Soame._ Certainly not. I would teach him to regard them as the reward, the compensation, the sole delight of this dreariest of all possible worlds. _Lord Dol._ [_Uneasily._] Reward! Compensation! Delight! I beg you will not go so far as that. What notion would be more upsetting? Pray do not use such extreme terms! _Soame._ Ha! ha! But tell me, Doldrummond, is it true that your wife insists on his retiring at eleven and rising at eight? I hear that she allows him nothing stronger than ginger ale and lemon; that she selects his friends, makes his engagements, and superintends his amusements? Should he marry, I am told she will even undertake the office of best man! _Lord Dol._ Poor soul! she means well; and if devotion could make the boy a saint he would have been in heaven before he was out of his long clothes. As it is, I fear that nothing can save him. _Soame._ Save him? You speak as though you suspected that he was not such a saint as his mother thinks him. _Lord Dol._ I suspect nothing. I only know that my boy is unhappy. You might speak to him, and draw him out if occasion should offer--but do not say a word about this to Lady Doldrummond.