_Servant_ (_arranging his powdered hair in a glass_). Because in cases of
exposure her Grace is quite equal to showing up herself!

_Countess_ (_smiling_). You are cynical, JOHN. Do you not know that
cynicism is the birthright of fools, and, when discovered, is more than
half found out?

_Servant_ (_taking up coal scuttle_). Like the hair of your Lady-ship--out
of curl! [_Exit._

_Countess._ A quaint conceit; but here is my husband. Let me avoid him. A
married man is quite out of date--save when he forms the subject of his own
obituary. [_Exit._

_A pause. Enter the_ Duchess of BATTERSEA.

_Duchess._ Dear me! No one here! So I might have brought the Duke with me,
after all! And yet he is so fond of the petticoats. He loses his head when
he begins kissing his hand. And I lose my head when I fail to catch a
'buss. A kiss with him and a 'buss with me--where's the difference?

_Enter_ Earl PENNYPLAINE.

_Earl_ (_angrily_). You here!

_Duchess_ (_with an appealing gesture_). You are not pleased to see me! You
regard me as an adventuress! You are ashamed of my past! A past unblessed
by a clergyman--in fact, a past without a pastor!

_Earl._ Begone! Do not dare to darken my doors again. This is no home for