Cecily. [Very politely, rising.] I am afraid you must be under
some misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.
[Shows diary.]

Gwendolen. [Examines diary through her lorgnettte carefully.] It
is certainly very curious, for he asked me to be his wife yesterday
afternoon at 5.30. If you would care to verify the incident, pray
do so. [Produces diary of her own.] I never travel without my
diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the
train. I am so sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappointment to
you, but I am afraid I have the prior claim.

Cecily. It would distress me more than I can tell you, dear
Gwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but I
feel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly
has changed his mind.

Gwendolen. [Meditatively.] If the poor fellow has been entrapped
into any foolish promise I shall consider it my duty to rescue him
at once, and with a firm hand.

Cecily. [Thoughtfully and sadly.] Whatever unfortunate
entanglement my dear boy may have got into, I will never reproach
him with it after we are married.

Gwendolen. Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew, as an entanglement?
You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind it becomes more
than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure.