AUBREY.

You were surprised therefore to find Mr. Ethurst aided in his cursed hospitality by a lady.

DRUMMLE.

I was unprepared.

AUBREY.

The lady you had known as Mrs. Dartry? [DRUMMLE _inclines his head silently._] There is something of a yachting cruise in the Mediterranean too, is there not?

DRUMMLE.

I joined Peter Jarman's yacht at Ma.r.s.eilles, in the Spring, a month before he died.

AUBREY.

Mrs. Jarman was on board?

DRUMMLE.

She was a kind hostess.

AUBREY.

And an old acquaintance?

DRUMMLE.

Yes.

AUBREY.

You have told your story.

DRUMMLE.

With your a.s.sistance.

AUBREY.

I have put you to the pain of telling it to show you that this is not the case of a blind man entrapped by an artful woman. Let me add that Mrs. Jarman has no legal right to that name, that she is simply Miss Ray--Miss Paula Ray.

DRUMMLE.

[_After a pause._] I should like to express my regret, Aubrey, for the way in which I spoke of George Orreyed's marriage.

AUBREY.

You mean you compare Lady Orreyed with Miss Ray? [DRUMMLE _is silent._] Oh, of course! To you, Cayley, all women who have been roughly treated, and who dare to survive by borrowing a little of our philosophy, are alike. You see in the crowd of the Ill-used only one pattern; you can't detect the shades of goodness, intelligence, even n.o.bility there. Well, how should you? The crowd is dimly lighted! And, besides, yours is the way of the world.

DRUMMLE.

My dear Aubrey, I _live_ in the world.

AUBREY.

The name we give our little parish of St. James's.

DRUMMLE.

[_Laying a hand on_ AUBREY's _shoulder._] And you are quite prepared, my friend, to forfeit the esteem of your little parish?

AUBREY.

I avoid mortification by shifting from one parish to another. I give up Pall Mall for the Surrey hills; leave off varnishing my boots and double the thickness of the soles.

DRUMMLE.

And your skin--do you double the thickness of that also?

AUBREY.

I know you think me a fool, Cayley--you needn't infer that I'm a coward into the bargain. No! I know what I'm doing, and I do it deliberately, defiantly. I'm alone; I injure no living soul by the step I'm going to take; and so you can't urge the one argument which might restrain me. Of course, I don't expect you to think compa.s.sionately, fairly even, of the woman whom I--whom I am drawn to----

DRUMMLE.

My dear Aubrey, I a.s.sure you I consider Mrs.--Miss Jarman--Mrs.

Ray--Miss Ray--delightful. But I confess there is a form of chivalry which I gravely distrust, especially in a man of--our age.

AUBREY.

Thanks. I've heard you say that from forty till fifty a man is at heart either a stoic or a satyr.

DRUMMLE.

[_Protestingly._] Ah! now----

AUBREY.

I am neither. I have a temperate, honourable affection for Mrs.

Jarman. She has never met a man who has treated her well--I intend to treat her well. That's all. And in a few years, Cayley, if you've not quite forsaken me, I'll prove to you that it's possible to rear a life of happiness, of good repute, on a--miserable foundation.

DRUMMLE.

[_Offering his hand._] Do prove it!

AUBREY.