LADY TORMINSTER.  How will China help you?

SIR GEOFFREY.  They colour it green on the map—­and there is such a lot of it!

LADY TORMINSTER.  You should get married.

SIR GEOFFREY. [With a sudden burst of passion.] You say that—­you!

     [He starts back, ashamed, and hangs his head. LADY TORMINSTER
     throws a quick glance at him, then looks ahead of her, puffing
     quietly at her cigarette.

LADY TORMINSTER. [Quietly.] So that is why you are going?

SIR GEOFFREY. [With a great sigh of relief.] Now, that really is fine of you!  Every other woman in the world would have seized that chance for a melodramatic exit.  “Good-night, Sir Geoffrey; I must go to my husband.”  “Good-night, Lady Torminster.”  A clasp of the hand—­a hot tear—­mine—­on your wrist.  But you sit there.  Splendid!

LADY TORMINSTER.  I ask you again—­is that truly why you are going?

SIR GEOFFREY.  Well, yes, that’s the fact.  I apologise humbly—­it’s so conventional.  Isn’t it?

LADY TORMINSTER.  I suppose it’s difficult for human beings to invent new situations.

SIR GEOFFREY.  You’ve known it, of course, all the time; you’ve known it ever since Jack brought me to you, the day after you were engaged.  And that’s nine years ago.  It’s the usual kind of fatality.

LADY TORMINSTER.  These things happen.

SIR GEOFFREY.  Yes.  Well, I thought I was cured.  I’ve been here five days, and I find I am not.  So I go.  That’s best, isn’t it?

LADY TORMINSTER.  Yes.

SIR GEOFFREY.  It’s so infernally stupid.  You’re a beautiful woman, of course; but there are heaps of beautiful women.  You’ve qualities—­well, so have other women, too.  I’m only forty-one—­and, as you say, why don’t I marry?  Simply because of you.  Because you’ve an uncomfortable knack of intruding between me and the other lady.

LADY TORMINSTER.  That is a great misfortune.

SIR GEOFFREY.  It’s most annoying.  So I shall try China.  I shall come back in two years—­I shall be forty-three then—­I shall come back, sound as a bell; and I shall marry some healthy, pink-cheeked young woman, take a house next to yours, and in the fulness of time your eldest son shall fall in love with my daughter.

LADY TORMINSTER.  Why not?

SIR GEOFFREY.  I shouldn’t have told you, of course; but I’m glad that I have.  It clears the air.  Now what excuse shall I make?

LADY TORMINSTER.  A wire from town?

SIR GEOFFREY.  Jack knows all about my affairs; in fact, that’s why I take the early train, to avoid his questions.

LADY TORMINSTER.  You find it impossible to stay out your time here?

SIR GEOFFREY.  Quite.  There are moments when I am unpleasantly volcanic.

LADY TORMINSTER.  Then I tell you the best thing to do.  Don’t take your trunks; just go up with a bag.  Leave a note that you’ll come back on Tuesday.  Then write from town and say you’re prevented.