seated together on a Louis Seize sofa. They are types of exquisite
fragility. Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm.
Watteau would have loved to paint them.]

MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks' to-night, Margaret?

LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you?

MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don't
they?

LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know
why I go anywhere.

MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated

LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated!

MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the
commercial classes, doesn't it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always
telling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I
come here to try to find one.

LADY BASILDON. [Looking round through her lorgnette.] I don't see
anybody here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious purpose.
The man who took me in to dinner talked to me about his wife the
whole time.

MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him!