He hasn't really told me yet. He's only mentioned it once or twice in passing.
TOMMY (modestly). Well, I mean it's bound to appear in the papers, so naturally one--
GERALD. Oh, it's a great business. Champagne will flow like water to-night. There will also be speeches.
WENTWORTH. Which reminds me, Gerald, I have to congratulate you.
GERALD. Thank you very much. When you've seen her you'll want to do it again.
TOMMY (looking through the window). Hallo, there's Letty.
GERALD. If you want to tell her about it, run along, Tommy.
TOMMY (moving off). I thought I'd just take her on at putting. [He goes out.]
GERALD (sitting down). You'll stay till--well, how long can you? Tuesday, anyhow.
WENTWORTH. I think I can manage till Tuesday. Thanks very much. Miss Carey is here, of course?
GERALD. Yes, she'll be in directly. She's gone to the station to meet Bob.
WENTWORTH (smiling). And Gerald didn't go with her?
GERALD (smiling). At least six people suggested that Gerald should go with her. They suggested it very loudly and archly--
WENTWORTH. So Gerald didn't?
GERALD. So Gerald didn't. (After a pause) I can't stand that sort of thing.
WENTWORTH. What sort of thing?
GERALD (after a pause). Poor old boy! you've never been in love-- barring the nine or ten times you're just going to tell me about. I mean never really in love.
WENTWORTH. Don't drag _me_ into it. What is it you can't stand?
GERALD. People being tactful about Pamela and me. ... Aunt Tabitha asked me yesterday if she might have Pamela for half an hour to do something or other--as if she were an umbrella, with my initials on it. ... And somebody else said, "I've quite fallen in love with your Pamela; I hope you don't mind." _Mind_? I tell you, Wentworth, my boy, if you aren't in love with Pamela by Tuesday, there'll be the very deuce of a row. Your electro-plated butter-dish, or whatever it's going to be, will be simply flung back at you.
WENTWORTH. Well, as long as Miss Pamela understands--
GERALD. Of course she understands. We understand each other.
WENTWORTH (preening himself ). Then I'll do my best. Mind, if she does happen to reciprocate my feelings, I wash my hands of all responsibility. (Going towards the staircase) Good-afternoon, Miss Farringdon.
[MISS FARRINGDON is coming slowly down the stairs.]
MISS FARRINGDON. Good-afternoon, Mr. Wentworth. Welcome.
(She must be well over eighty. She was pretty once, and sharp-tongued; so much you could swear to now. For the rest she is very, very wise, and intensely interested in life.)
GERALD (going over and kissing her). Good-morning, Aunt Tabitha. Your chair is waiting for you. (He conducts her to it.)
MISS FARRINGDON. I'm a nasty cross old thing before lunch, Mr. Wentworth, so I don't come down till afterwards nowadays. Is Gerald being as charming as usual?
WENTWORTH (smiling). Oh, pretty well.
GERALD (looking at her lovingly and then turning to WENTWORTH). It's having a very bad effect on her, this morning seclusion. She's supposed to be resting, but she spends her time trying to think of nasty things to say about me. The trouble with a mind like Aunt Tabitha's is that it can't think of anything _really_ nasty.
MISS FARRINGDON. The trouble with Gerald, Mr. Wentworth, is that he goes about expecting everybody to love him. The result is that they nearly all do. However, he can't get round _me_.
GERALD. It isn't true, Wentworth; she adores me.
MISS FARRINGDON. He wouldn't be happy if he didn't think so.
WENTWORTH (gracefully). I can sympathize with him there.
GERALD. The slight coolness which you perceive to have arisen between my Aunt Tabitha and myself is due to the fact that I discovered her guilty secret a few days ago. For years she has pretended that her real name was Harriet. I have recently found out that she was christened Tabitha--or, anyhow, would have been, if the clergyman had known his job.
MISS FARRINGDON. My great-nephew, Gerald, Mr. Wentworth--
GERALD. _Nephew_, Wentworth. I agreed to waive the "great" a long time ago.
WENTWORTH. You'll excuse my asking, but do you never talk to each other except through the medium of a third person?
MISS FARRINGDON (to GERALD). That's how they prefer to do it in the Foreign Office. Isn't it, dear?
GERALD. Always, Aunt Tabitha. But really, you know, we both ought to be talking to Wentworth and flaking after his mother and his liver--and things like that.
MISS FARRINGDON. Yes, I'm afraid we're rather rude, Mr. Wentworth. The Farringdons' great fault.
WENTWORTH (protesting). Oh no!
MISS FARRINGDON. How _is_ Mrs. Wentworth?
WENTWORTH. Wonderfully well, thank you, considering her age.
MISS FARRINGDON. Dear me, we met first in 1850.
GERALD. All frills and lavender.
MISS FARRINGDON. And now here's Gerald engaged. Have you seen Pamela yet?
WENTWORTH. Not yet. I have been hearing about her from Tommy. He classes her with the absolute rippers.
GERALD. Good old Tommy!
MISS FARRINGDON. Yes, she's much too good for Gerald.
GERALD. Of course she is, Aunt Tabitha. But if women only married men who were good enough for them, where should we be? As lots of young men said to you, in vain--on those afternoons when they read Tennyson aloud to you.
MISS FARRINGDON. She ought to have married Bob.
WENTWORTH (surprised and amused). Bob? Is Bob good enough for her?
MISS FARRINGDON. She would have made a good wife for Bob.
