DRUMMLE.

Yourself, of course. [_Going to_ AUBREY _and standing beside him._]

Of course, yourself, old friend.

AUBREY.

[_After a pause._] I must seem a brute to you, Cayley. But there are some acts which are hard to explain, hard to defend----

DRUMMLE.

To defend----?

AUBREY.

Some acts which one must trust to time to put right.

[DRUMMLE _watches him for a moment, then takes up his hat and coat._

DRUMMLE.

Well, I'll be moving.

AUBREY.

Cayley! Confound you and your old friendship! Do you think I forget it? Put your coat down! Why did you stay behind here? Cayley, the lady I am going to marry is the lady--who is known as--Mrs. Jarman.

[_There is a pause._

DRUMMLE.

[_In a low voice_] Mrs. Jarman! are you serious?

[_He walks up to the fireplace, where he leans upon the mantelpiece uttering something like a groan._

AUBREY.

As you've got this out of me I give you leave to say all you care to say. Come, we'll be plain with each other. You know Mrs. Jarman?

DRUMMLE.

I first met her at--what does it matter?

AUBREY.

Yes, yes, everything! Come!

DRUMMLE.

I met her at Homburg, two--three seasons ago.

AUBREY.

Not as Mrs. Jarman?

DRUMMLE.

No.

AUBREY.

She was then----?

DRUMMLE.

Mrs. Dartry.

AUBREY.

Yes. She has also seen you in London, she says.

DRUMMLE.

Certainly.

AUBREY.

In Aldford Street. Go on.

DRUMMLE.

Please!

AUBREY.

I insist.

DRUMMLE.

[_With a slight shrug of the shoulders._] Some time last year I was asked by a man to sup at his house, one night after the theatre.

AUBREY.

Mr. Selwyn Ethurst--a bachelor.

DRUMMLE.

Yes.