Mrs Cheveley Science can never grapple with the irrational. That is why it has no future before it, in this world.

Sir Robert Chiltern And women represent the irrational.

Mrs Cheveley Well-dressed women do.

Sir Robert Chiltern (with a polite bow) I fear I could hardly agree with you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes you leave your brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London—or perhaps the question is indiscreet?

Mrs Cheveley Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.

Sir Robert Chiltern Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics or pleasure?

Mrs Cheveley Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it is not fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one is forty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, have nothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And philanthropy seems to me to have become simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy their fellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I think they are more… becoming!

Sir Robert Chiltern A political life is a noble career!

Mrs Cheveley Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, Sir Robert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance.

Sir Robert Chiltern Which do you find it?

Mrs Cheveley I? A combination of all three. (Drops her fan)°

Sir Robert Chiltern (picks up fan) Allow me!

Mrs Cheveley Thanks.

Sir Robert Chiltern But you have not told me yet what makes you honour London so suddenly. Our season is almost over.

Mrs Cheveley Oh! I don’t care about the London season! It is too matrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding from them. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a woman’s curiosity is. Almost as great as a man’s! I wanted immensely to meet you, and… to ask you to do something for me.

Sir Robert Chiltern I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs Cheveley. I find that little things are so very difficult to do.

Mrs Cheveley (after a moment’s reflection) No, I don’t think it is quite a little thing.

Sir Robert Chiltern I am so glad. Do tell me what it is.

Mrs Cheveley: Later on. (Rises) And now may I walk through your beautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor Baron Arnheim°—you remember the Baron?—used to tell me you had some wonderful Corots.

Sir Robert Chiltern (with an almost imperceptible start) Did you know Baron Arnheim well?

Mrs Cheveley (smiling) Intimately. Did you?