The Profligate 4

The Profligate 4

[_EPHGRAVES ushers in LORD DANGARS, a dissipated-looking man of about

forty, dressed in the height of fashion._]

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Good morning, Mr. Murray.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Good morning. Pray sit down.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

I don’t want to bother you, you know, but my servant, who has been

reading the newspapers for me since my damned--I beg your pardon--since

my divorce business has been before the public, says that we were in

Court again yesterday.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Oh, yes. The Decree _Nisi_ has been made absolute on the application of

the petitioner.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

The Petitioner. Let me see--they call me the Respondent, don’t they?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

They do--[_under his breath_] amongst other things.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

It’s a deuced odd circumstance that I have been nearly everything in

divorce cases, but _never_ a petitioner. Decree _Nisi_ made absolute,

eh? That means I am quite free, doesn’t it?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Certainly.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

And eligible?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

I beg pardon?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

I can marry again?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

You could marry again if you thought proper.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

You wouldn’t call it improper?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

If you ask me that as your solicitor I answer No. Otherwise I have what

are perhaps peculiar notions as to the eligibility of a man who marries.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Oh, have you! Well, I don’t see that a man’s eligibility requires any

further qualification than that of his being single. You differ?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

May I speak honestly, Lord Dangars?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Do. I admire anything of that sort. I think your partner told me you

were a Scotchman and new to London. I like to encounter a man in his

honest stage.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Thank you. Then you will allow me to maintain that the man who marries

a good woman knowing that his past life is not as spotless as hers

grievously wrongs his wife and fools himself.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

As for wronging _her_, that’s an abstract question of sentiment. But I

don’t see how the man is a fool.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

A man is a fool to bind himself to one who sooner or later must learn

what little need there is to respect her husband.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Why, my dear Mr. Murray, you’re actually putting men on a level with

ladies. Ladies, I admit, are like nations--to be happy they should have

no histories. But don’t you know that Marriage is the tomb of the Past,

as far as a man is concerned?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

No, I don’t know it and I don’t believe it.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Oh, really----

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

You can’t lay the Past: it has an ugly habit of breaking its tomb.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Even then the shades of pretty women should not be such very bad

company. [_Referring to his watch._] By Jove, a pleasant chat runs into

one’s time. If you want me, “_Poste Restante_, Rome,” till you hear

again.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Going abroad, during the shooting?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

I must, you know. This divorce business checks the pleasant flow

of invitations for a season or two. So I shall spend a few months

tranquilly in Italy and write a Society novel.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

A Society novel!

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Yes--that seems the only thing left for a man whose reputation is a

little off colour. Good-bye, Mr. Murray.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Good-bye, Lord Dangars. Come this way.

 

[_HUGH opens the door leading on to the staircase-landing._]

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Excuse me, but didn’t I see Mr. Dunstan Renshaw enter your outer office

just then?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

I am expecting Mr. Renshaw. Do you know him?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Know him! We’re bosom friends.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Friends? You and Mr. Renshaw? Then of course you know that he is going

to be married this morning.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Married! You’re joking!

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

I have a perfectly serious engagement to accompany Mr. Renshaw to the

Registrar’s in half-an-hour.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

You! No! Ha, ha! That’s very good--that’s very good--that’s capital!

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Why does the idea of Mr. Renshaw’s marriage amuse you so much, Lord

Dangars?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

My dear Mr. Murray, I am not laughing at Renshaw’s marriage, but it

tickles me confoundedly to think that you, my Quixotic young friend,

are to assist at laying the marble slab upon dear old Dunstan’s

bachelor days--and nights.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

You mean that Mr. Renshaw is not, according to my qualification, an

eligible husband for a pure honest-hearted woman?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Oh, come, come, Mr. Murray, let us be men of the world. Renshaw’s a

good fellow, just one of my own sort; that’s all I mean. [_HUGH turns

away impatiently._] May I beg to know who’s the lady?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Miss Leslie Brudenell--an orphan--my partner’s ward.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Money? I needn’t ask.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

If Miss Brudenell were penniless I should describe her as a

millionaire. She is very sweet, very beautiful.

 

LORD DANGARS.

  You’re enthusiastic.