respectably--

LUCAS. [Impulsively.] Yes, yes, I say so. I tell her that.

ST. OLPHERTS. [With a smile.] Do you? That's odd, now.

LUCAS. What a topic. Poor Agnes's dress!

ST. OLPHERTS. Your taste used to be rather aesthetic. Even your own
wife is one of the smartest women in London.

LUCAS. Ha, well I must contrive to smother these aesthetic tastes of
mine.

ST. OLPHERTS. It's a pity that other people will retain their sense of
the incongruous.

LUCAS. [Snapping his fingers.] Other people!--

ST. OLPHERTS. The public.

LUCAS. The public?

ST. OLPHERTS. Come, you know well enough that unostentatious
immodesty is no part of your partner's programme. Of course, you
will find yourself by-and-bye in a sort of perpetual parade with
your crack-brained visionary--

LUCAS. You shall not speak of her so! You shall not.