Mrs. Denham.

What an interest you take in these scandals!

Denham.

Of course, dear.  A scandal is a typical case of the great social disease.

Mrs. Denham.

She promised to be handsome.

Denham.

I wonder whether this woman is a weak fool, or a bold experimenter in the art of life?

Mrs. Denham.

How so?

Denham.

Why, having had the courage to come down from the cross, should she go back to it again?

Mrs. Denham.

What cross?

Denham.

What is woman’s cross from the foundation of the world but man, man?  The cords are the bonds of marriage, her children are the nails, and love her crown of thorns.

Mrs. Denham.

Very poetical, no doubt.

Denham.

Bitter truth, as you are never tired of demonstrating to me.  Do you think the unfortunate cross has not had his share of the torment?

Mrs. Denham.

Too light a share for his tyranny, cruelty, and, above all, his mean hypocrisy.  May he burn in some spiritual fire for that!

Denham.

So he does; it runs in his veins.  Well, something better may come of it, some day.  By-the-bye, I expect some men to see my picture.

Mrs. Denham.

Brynhild?

Denham.

Yes, such as she is. (Crosses R, and looks at the
picture.) Another failure, of course. (Sighs.)

Mrs. Denham.

Why will you always speak of your work so despondently?

Denham.

Because I want to do better.  Vanity, I suppose. (He comes back towards the fireplace.)

Mrs. Denham.

Just move out this sofa. (They move sofa to C.) Who are coming?

Denham.

Oh, Fitzgerald, of course, and possibly Cyril Vane.

Mrs. Denham.  That little creature?  You know I detest him.

Denham.

Why little?  Do you estimate men of genius by the pound?

Mrs. Denham.

Men of genius, indeed?  The man has a second-hand intellect.

Denham.

Really, you sometimes say a good thing—­that is, an ill-natured one. 
How you hate culture! (Enter Jane, showing in Fitzgerald.)

Jane.

Mr. Fitzgerald! (Exit Jane.)

(Fitzgerald saunters up to Mrs. Denham, stops suddenly, straddling his legs, and shakes hands loosely and absently.)

Fitzgerald.

Lovely day, eh?  Have you heard the news?

Denham.

We never have heard the news.

Mrs. Denham.

You are the only gossip who comes our way.

Fitzgerald.

(good-humouredly) Gossip, eh?  Oh, you needn’t think I mind being denounced from your domestic altar, Mrs. Denham!  I know you’re dying to hear the last bit of scandal.