Lady G.  It’s no use:  if he should turn out a pauper, or even a swindler, I am afraid Elaine will marry him.  I saw it in her eye last night; and so, I should think, did he.  He certainly can’t complain of not receiving encouragement.  I only wonder that he has not yet proposed.  I believe the man to be capable of any act of audacity, in spite of his languid manner, and his long hair, and short-sightedness, and his stammer.

Enter Elaine.

Lord G.  Are you coming to ride with me, or going out to drive with your mother, Elaine?

El.  Neither, dear papa.  I am too busy finishing a paper I am writing on the “Chiton; or, Clothing for the masses on the principles of the ideal of the ancient Greeks,” for the next meeting of the Women’s Dress Reform Association.

Lord G.  Well, take care you make them put enough on.  Remember the climate, if you ignore other considerations.

Lady G.  And pray do not so far overstep the bounds of maidenly modesty as to consult your Mr Plumper on the subject.

[Exit Lord and Lady Gules.

El. [sighing].  My Mr Plumper!  Ah, Adolphus, there is not a fibre in our bodies or souls—­and why should not souls have fibres?—­that does not vibrate in harmony!  We are like AEolian harps that make the same music to the same airs of the affections, while electrically our brains respond sympathetically to the same wave-current of idea.  Emotionally, intellectually, we are one.  Why should I allow an absurd custom of conventional civilisation, degrading to the sex, to prevent my telling him so?  What more inherent right can be vested by nature in a woman than that of telling a man that she loves him, and that, therefore, he belongs to her?  Hark! his step.  My Adolphus!

Enter Adolphus.

Ad.  I have ventured to kuk-kuk-kuk-call, Lady Elaine, with the pap-pap-pattern I promised of female attire suited to all classes; for why should we recognise any did-did-distinction between the folds which drape the form of the aristocrat and the pop-pop-pauper?  It is all in kuk-kuk-curves and circles; there is not a straight line about it worn thus.  See how graciously it flows! [Puts his head through a hole in the middle.] But allow me; your form will do far more justice to it than mine. [Takes it off and puts it on Lady Elaine.] Ah, how divinely precious! [Gazes with rapture.  Lady Elaine sits down in it.]

El.  Dear Adolphus, why should this strained conventional formality exist any longer between us?  Can we not read each other’s thoughts?  Can we not feel each other’s hearts beating in sweet accord?  Are we not formed and fashioned for each other?  Let this exquisite garment, which we have both worn, be the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven from the texture of our affections.