ou will wait and have some tea, won't you?

LORD GORING. I'll wait for a short time, thanks.

LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take my
hat off.

LORD GORING. [_In his most earnest manner_.] Oh! please don't. It is
so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Woman's
Liberal Association received it with loud applause.

LADY CHILTERN. [_With a smile_.] We have much more important work to do
than look at each other's bonnets, Lord Goring.

LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work?

LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female
Inspectors, the Eight Hours' Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise. . . .
Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly uninteresting.

LORD GORING. And never bonnets?

LADY CHILTERN. [_With mock indignation_.] Never bonnets, never!

[LADY CHILTERN _goes out through the door leading to her boudoir_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Takes_ LORD GORING'S _hand_.] You have been a
good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend.

LORD GORING. I don't know that I have been able to do much for you,
Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, as
far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. That is
something. The truth has always stifled me.

LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as possible!
Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the club . . . with
the older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps it is.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the
truth . . . to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to
live the truth. [_Sighs_, _and goes towards the door_.] I'll see you
soon again, Arthur, shan't I?

LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. I'm going to look in at the
Bachelors' Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. But I'll
come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to-night by any
chance, send round a note to Curzon Street.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you.

[_As he reaches the door_, LADY CHILTERN _enters from her boudoir_.]

LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I have some letters to write, dear.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Going to him_.] You work too hard, Robert. You seem
never to think of yourself, and you are looking so tired.

SIR ROBERT CH