ALINE.  What shall I say to the Marchioness, my mother, and the Duchess, my aunt?

CROCKSTEAD.  You will acquaint those noble ladies with the fact of your having refused me.

     [They have both risen, and move up the room together.

ALINE.  I shall be a nine days’ wonder.  And how do you propose to carry out your little scheme?

CROCKSTEAD.  I will take Saturday’s boat—­you will give me a line to your cousin.  I had better state the case plainly to him, perhaps?

ALINE.  That demands consideration.

CROCKSTEAD.  And I will tell you what you shall do for me in return.  Find me a wife!

ALINE.  I?

CROCKSTEAD.  You.  I beg it on my knees.  I give you carte blanche.  I undertake to propose, with my eyes shut, to the woman you shall select.

ALINE.  And will you treat her to the—­little preliminaries—­with which you have favoured me?

CROCKSTEAD.  No.  I said those things to you because I liked you.

ALINE.  And you don’t intend to like the other one?

CROCKSTEAD.  I will marry her, I can trust you to find me a loyal and intelligent woman.

ALINE.  In Society?

CROCKSTEAD.  For preference.  She will be better versed in spending money than a governess, or country parson’s daughter.

ALINE.  But why this voracity for marriage?

CROCKSTEAD.  Lady Aline, I am hunted, pestered, worried, persecuted.  I have settled two breach of promise actions already, though Heaven knows I did no more than remark it was a fine day, or enquire after the lady’s health.  If you do not help me, some energetic woman will capture me—­I feel it—­and bully me for the rest of my days.  I raise a despairing cry to you—­Find me a wife!

ALINE.  Do you desire the lady to have any—­special qualifications?

CROCKSTEAD.  No—­the home-grown article will do.  One thing, though—­I should like her to be—­merciful.

ALINE.  I don’t understand.

CROCKSTEAD.  I have a vague desire to do something with my money:  my wife might help me.  I should like her to have pity.

ALINE.  Pity?

CROCKSTEAD.  In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for those who are poor.

ALINE.  Yes.  And, as regards the rest—­

CROCKSTEAD.  The rest I leave to you, with absolute confidence.  You will help me?

ALINE.  I will try.  My choice is to be final?

CROCKSTEAD.  Absolutely.

ALINE.  I have an intimate friend—­I wonder whether she would do?

CROCKSTEAD.  Tell me about her.

ALINE.  She and I made our debut the same season.  Like myself she has hitherto been her mother’s despair.

CROCKSTEAD.  Because she has not yet—­

ALINE.  Married—­yes.  Oh, if men knew how hard the lot is of the portionless girl, who has to sit, and smile, and wait, with a very desolate heart—­they would think less unkindly of her, perhaps—­[She smiles.] But I am digressing, too.