LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work?

LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts,
Female Inspectors, the Eight Hours' Bill, the Parliamentary
Franchise. . . . Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly
uninteresting.

LORD GORING. And never bonnets?

LADY CHILTERN. [With mock indignation.] Never bonnets, never!

[LADY CHILTERN goes out through the door leading to her boudoir.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Takes LORD GORING'S hand.] You have been a
good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend.

LORD GORING. I don't know that I have been able to do much for you,
Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for
you, as far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth.
That is something. The truth has always stifled me.

LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as
possible! Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the
club . . . with the older members. They call it being conceited.
Perhaps it is.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to God that I had been able to tell the