CULVER.  You are a heartless creature. (In an ordinary voice.) Did we finish the first letter?  This is the second one. (Dictates.) ’My dear Lord Woking’—­

MISS STARKEY.  But you’ve just given me that one.

CULVER (firmly.) ‘My dear Lord Woking.’  Go on the same as the first one down to ’I cannot adequately express to you my sense of the honour in contemplation.’  ’Full stop.  I need hardly say that, in spite of my feeling that I have done only too little to deserve it, I accept it with the greatest pleasure and the greatest gratitude.  Believe me, etc.’

MISS STARKEY.  But—­

CULVER.  Don’t imagine that your giving me notice has affected me in the slightest degree.  It has not.  I told you I had two letters.  I have not yet decided whether to accept or refuse the title. (Enter Mrs. Culver, back.) Go and copy both letters and bring them in to me in a quarter of an hour, whether I ring or not.  That will give you plenty of time for post.  Now—­run! (Exit Miss Starkey, back.  Culver rises, clears his throat, and obviously braces himself for a final effort of firmness.  Mrs. Culver calmly rearranges some flowers in a vase.) Well, my dear, I was expecting you.

MRS. CULVER (very sweetly), Arthur, I was wrong.

CULVER (startled).  Good God! (Mrs. Culver bends down to examine the upholstery of a chair.  Culver gives a gesture, first of triumph, and then of apprehension.)

MRS. CULVER (looking straight at him).  I say I was wrong.

CULVER (lightly, but uneasily).  Oh no!  Oh no!

MRS. CULVER.  Of course I don’t mean wrong in my arguments about the title.  Not for a moment.  I mean I was wrong not to sacrifice my own point of view.  I’m only a woman, and it’s the woman’s place to submit.  So I do submit.  Naturally I shall always be a true wife to you, but—­

CULVER.  Now child, don’t begin to talk like that.  I don’t mind reading novels, but I won’t have raw lumps of them thrown at me.

MRS. CULVER (with a gentle smile), I must talk like this.  I shall do everything I can to make you comfortable, and I hope nobody, and especially not the poor children, will notice any difference in our relations.

CULVER (advancing, with a sort of menace).  But?

MRS. CULVER.  But things can never be the same again.

CULVER.  I knew the confounded phrase was coming.  I knew it.  I’ve read it scores of times. (Picking up the vase.) Hermione, if you continue in that strain, I will dash this vase into a thousand fragments.

MRS. CULVER (quietly taking the vase from him and putting it down).  Arthur, I could have forgiven you everything.  What do I care—­really—­about a title? (Falsely.) I only care for your happiness.  But I can’t forgive you for having laid a trap for me last night—­and in front of the children and a stranger too.