LADY TORMINSTER.  That’s because he shot your tiger, and you rubbed his nose.  Besides, you talk about horses, and so on.  And yet I heard him, for a solid hour, telling you about a rubber he lost at bridge through his partner making diamonds trumps when he should have made spades.

SIR GEOFFREY.  He’s not clever, of course—­and you are.  But still!  Is cleverness everything?

LADY TORMINSTER.  Haven’t I told you he’s the very best fellow in all the world?  And do you think I’m posing, pretending that I’m misunderstood, and the rest?  You know me better.  I am indulging, for once, in the luxury of absolute candour.

SIR GEOFFREY.  You loved him—­

LADY TORMINSTER.  Of course I loved him—­and I love him now.

SIR GEOFFREY. [Triumphantly.] You see!

LADY TORMINSTER.  If we women had had a hand in the making of the language, how many words there would be to express our feelings towards the men we are fond of!  Of course I love Jack.  I’m cruel to him sometimes; and there comes a look into his eyes—­he has dog’s eyes, you know—­a faithful Newfoundland—­

SIR GEOFFREY. [Very earnestly.] I don’t think women quite realise what friendship means to a man.

LADY TORMINSTER.  I am certain that men don’t realise what marriage means to a woman!  Dear funeral, am I not a good wife—­shall I not remain a good wife, till the end of the chapter?  Because there isn’t only Jack—­there are Jack’s children.

SIR GEOFFREY.  Yes.

LADY TORMINSTER.  And isn’t it wonderful, when you think of it—­here are we two, Jack’s friend and his wife, alone on a desert island—­and we have confessed our love for each other, and we are able to discuss it as calmly as though it were rheumatism!

SIR GEOFFREY. [With a groan.] If only I hadn’t induced you to stay!

LADY TORMINSTER. [Smiling.] My dear friend, you didn’t!

SIR GEOFFREY. [Amazed.] I didn’t?

LADY TORMINSTER.  Why no—­of course not.  I knew you were going to-morrow.

SIR GEOFFREY.  How?

LADY TORMINSTER.  Oh, never mind how!  I knew.  And I suspected you would be sitting up here to-night.  So I came down, hoping to find you.  I wanted this talk with you.  And I extracted your confession—­as though it had been a tooth.

SIR GEOFFREY.  And why?

LADY TORMINSTER.  Why?  Because it will be something to think of, in the dull days ahead.  Because I knew that you loved me, and wanted to be told.  Because your life lies before you, and mine is ended.  Because I love you, and insisted that you should know.  You leave me now, and I have no illusions.  Paolo and Francesca are merely a poet’s dream.  You will marry—­of course you will marry—­but this moment, at least, has been mine.

SIR GEOFFREY. [Stretching out yearning hands.] This moment, and every moment, in past and future!