DRUMMLE.
Yourself, of course. [_Going to_ AUBREY _and standing beside him._]
Of course, yourself, old friend.
AUBREY.
[_After a pause._] I must seem a brute to you, Cayley. But there are some acts which are hard to explain, hard to defend----
DRUMMLE.
To defend----?
AUBREY.
Some acts which one must trust to time to put right.
[DRUMMLE _watches him for a moment, then takes up his hat and coat._
DRUMMLE.
Well, I"ll be moving.
AUBREY.
Cayley! Confound you and your old friendship! Do you think I forget it? Put your coat down! Why did you stay behind here? Cayley, the lady I am going to marry is the lady--who is known as--Mrs. Jarman.
[_There is a pause._
DRUMMLE.
[_In a low voice_] Mrs. Jarman! are you serious?
[_He walks up to the fireplace, where he leans upon the mantelpiece uttering something like a groan._
AUBREY.
As you"ve got this out of me I give you leave to say all you care to say. Come, we"ll be plain with each other. You know Mrs. Jarman?
DRUMMLE.
I first met her at--what does it matter?
AUBREY.
Yes, yes, everything! Come!
DRUMMLE.
I met her at Homburg, two--three seasons ago.
AUBREY.
Not as Mrs. Jarman?
DRUMMLE.
No.
AUBREY.
She was then----?
DRUMMLE.
Mrs. Dartry.
AUBREY.
Yes. She has also seen you in London, she says.
DRUMMLE.
Certainly.
AUBREY.
In Aldford Street. Go on.
DRUMMLE.
Please!
AUBREY.
I insist.
DRUMMLE.
[_With a slight shrug of the shoulders._] Some time last year I was asked by a man to sup at his house, one night after the theatre.
AUBREY.
Mr. Selwyn Ethurst--a bachelor.
DRUMMLE.
Yes.