LORD WINDERMERE. [L.C.] Margaret, I was saying to you--and I beg
you to listen to me--that as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne, she
has conducted herself well. If years ago -

LADY WINDERMERE. Oh! [Crossing R.C.] I don't want details about
her life!

LORD WINDERMERE. [C.] I am not going to give you any details
about her life. I tell you simply this--Mrs. Erlynne was once
honoured, loved, respected. She was well born, she had position--
she lost everything--threw it away, if you like. That makes it all
the more bitter. Misfortunes one can endure--they come from
outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one's own faults--
ah!--there is the sting of life. It was twenty years ago, too.
She was little more than a girl then. She had been a wife for even
less time than you have.

LADY WINDERMERE. I am not interested in her--and--you should not
mention this woman and me in the same breath. It is an error of
taste. [Sitting R. at desk.]

LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you could save this woman. She wants
to get back into society, and she wants you to help her. [Crossing
to her.]

LADY WINDERMERE. Me!

LORD WINDERMERE. Yes, you.