If it were practicable.

Denham.

Ah yes!  We can’t live innocently and comfortably in “open sin,” until the kingdom of heaven comes.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(laughing) No, I fear there are still difficulties.  But, after all, one can do—­well, almost anything; if one does it from conscientious motives—­and knows one’s way about.

Denham.

Yes.  And how charming the relationship might be made!  Women would really study the art of keeping a lover.  But what, in Heaven’s name, is the sympathetic modern man to do, who feels that to love one of these creatures of a finer clay, in his rough masculine fashion, is to “insult,” or “enslave,” or injure her, in one way or another?  “I love you, therefore God forbid I should marry you!”—­that is the newest gospel.

Mrs. Tremaine.

We are not all such miserable creatures as you imagine.  Treat us decently well, and we can stand a good deal, without whining like men—­poor persecuted saints!

Denham.

It is quite impossible to treat you well in this “imperfect dispensation.”  Bah! let us talk of something else.

(Enter Mrs. Denham, dressed to go out.)

Mrs. Denham.

This letter has come for you, Blanche, sent on from your house.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Thanks so much.  I have been expecting it.  Will you excuse me? (Opens letter and reads.)

Mrs. Denham.

I am sorry to interrupt you, Arthur, but I am just going out.  Can you give me a cheque?

Denham.

Certainly.  But first look at this.

Mrs. Denham.

(looks at the picture) Better, I think.

Denham.

Eyes too big now?

Mrs. Denham.

No, not now.  Let me have the cheque, and I will go.

(Denham crosses in front of easel to table, takes cheque book from a drawer in the table, and writes.  Mrs. Tremaine rises and crosses C.)

Denham.

Is that all you have to say?

Mrs. Denham.

Oh, my opinion is of no value!  I think you have improved; but, you know, I like your ideal work best.

Denham.

This is miles ahead of anything I have done.

Mrs. Denham.

Perhaps—­as a piece of painting.

Denham.

I am finding my way at last.  Here is the cheque.

Mrs. Denham.

(crosses L, takes cheque, and crosses C) You will stay to dinner, Blanche, of course?

Mrs. Tremaine.

Thanks very much, but I can’t possibly.

Denham.

I am so sorry, but why?

Mrs. Tremaine.

(waving the letter, crosses in front of easel, and goes down R) Work, work!  I have got an engagement.

Mrs. Denham.

I congratulate you.

Denham.

But what is it?  You have never told us what you have been working at in secret.