Arden:  It does.  She is rich in gifts; I am poor.  But I give all I have.

Lyra:  These lovers, uncle Homeware!

Homeware:  A honey-bag is hung up and we have them about us.  They would persuade us that the chief business of the world is a march to the altar.

Arden:  With the right partner, if the business of the world is to be better done.

Lyra:  Which right partner has been chosen on her part, by a veiled woman, who marches back from the altar to discover that she has chained herself to the skeleton of an idea, or is in charge of that devouring tyrant, an uxorious husband.  Is Mr. Arden in favour with the Dame, uncle?

Homeware:  My sister is an unsuspicious potentate, as you know.  Pretenders to the hand of an inviolate widow bite like waves at a rock.

Lyra:  Professor Spiral advances rapidly.

Homeware:  Not, it would appear, when he has his audience of ladies and their satellites.

Lyra:  I am sure I hear a spring-tide of enthusiasm coming.

Arden:  I will see.

   (He goes up the path.)

Lyra:  Now! my own dear uncle, save me from Pluriel.  I have given him the slip in sheer desperation; but the man is at his shrewdest when he is left to guess at my heels.  Tell him I am anywhere but here.  Tell him I ran away to get a sense of freshness in seeing him again.  Let me have one day of liberty, or, upon my word, I shall do deeds; I shall console young Arden:  I shall fly to Paris and set my cap at presidents and foreign princes.  Anything rather than be eaten up every minute, as I am.  May no woman of my acquaintance marry a man of twenty years her senior!  She marries a gigantic limpet.  At that period of his life a man becomes too voraciously constant.

Homeware:  Cupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasite.

Lyra:  I am in dead earnest, uncle, and I will have a respite, or else let decorum beware!

   (Arden returns.)

Arden:  The ladies are on their way.

Lyra:  I must get Astraea to myself.

Homeware:  My library is a virgin fortress, Mr. Arden.  Its gates are open to you on other topics than the coupling of inebriates.

(He enters the house—­Lyra disappears in the garden—­Spiral’s
audience reappear without him.)

Scene IV

Dame Dresden, lady Oldlace, Virginia, Winifred,
Arden, Swithin, osier

Lady Oldlace:  Such perfect rhythm!

Winifred:  Such oratory!

Lady Oldlace:  A master hand.  I was in a trance from the first sentence to the impressive close.

Osier:  Such oratory is a whole orchestral symphony.

Virginia:  Such command of intonation and subject!