The Second Mrs. Tanqueray

a large mirror above it, is on the left-hand side of the room, and higher up in the same wall are double doors recessed. The room is richly furnished, and everything betokens taste and luxury. The windows are open, and there is moonlight in the garden.

	Lady Orreyed, a pretty, affected doll of a woman with a mincing voice and flaxen hair, is sitting on the ottoman, her head resting against the drum, and her eyes closed. Paula, looking pale, worn, and thoroughly unhappy, is sitting at a table. Both are in sumptuous dinner-gowns.
Lady Orreyed	Opening her eyes. Well, I never! I dropped off! Feeling her hair. Just fancy! Where are the men?
Paula	Icily. Outside, smoking.
	A Servant enters with coffee, which he hands to Lady Orreyed. Sir George Orreyed comes in by the window. He is a man of about thirty-five, with a low forehead, a receding chin, a vacuous expression, and an ominous redness about the nose.
Lady Orreyed	Taking coffee. Here’s Dodo.
Sir George	I say, the flies under the verandah make you swear. The Servant hands coffee to Paula, who declines it, then to Sir George, who takes a cup. Hi! wait a bit! He looks at the tray searchingly, then puts back his cup. Never mind. Quietly to Lady Orreyed. I say, they’re dooced sparin’ with their liqueur, ain’t they?
	The Servant goes out at window.
Paula	To Sir George. Won’t you take coffee, George?
Sir George	No, thanks. It’s gettin’ near time for a whisky and potass. Approaching Paula, regarding Lady Orreyed admiringly. I say, Birdie looks rippin’ tonight, don’t she?
Paula	Your wife?
Sir George	Yaas⁠—Birdie.
Paula	Rippin’?
Sir George	Yaas.
Paula	Quite⁠—quite rippin’.
	He moves round to the settee. Paula watches him with distaste, then rises and walks away. Sir George falls asleep on the settee.
Lady Orreyed	Paula love, I fancied you and Aubrey were a little more friendly at dinner. You haven’t made it up, have you?
Paula	We? Oh, no. We speak before others, that’s all.
Lady Orreyed	And how long do you intend to carry on this game, dear?
Paula	Turning away impatiently. I really can’t tell you.
Lady Orreyed	Sit down, old girl; don’t be so fidgety. Paula sits on the upper seat of the ottoman with her back to Lady Orreyed. Of course, it’s my duty, as an old friend, to give you a good talking-to⁠—Paula glares at her suddenly and fiercely⁠—but really I’ve found one gets so many smacks in the face through interfering in matrimonial squabbles that I’ve determined to drop it.
Paula	I think you’re wise.
Lady Orreyed	However, I must say that I do wish you’d look at marriage in a more solemn light⁠—just as I do, in fact. It is such a beautiful thing⁠—marriage, and if people in our position don’t respect it, and set a good example by living happily with their husbands, what can you expect from the middle classes? When did this sad state of affairs between you and Aubrey actually begin?
Paula	Actually, a fortnight and three days ago; I haven’t calculated the minutes.
Lady Orreyed	A day or two before Dodo and I turned up⁠—arrived.
Paula	Yes. One always remembers one thing by another; we left off speaking to each other the morning I wrote asking you to visit us.
Lady Orreyed	Lucky for you I was able to pop down, wasn’t it, dear?
Paula	Glaring at her again. Most fortunate.
Lady Orreyed	A serious split with your husband without a pal on the premises⁠—I should say, without a friend in the house⁠—would be most unpleasant.
Paula	Turning to her abruptly. This place must be horribly doleful for you and George just now. At least you ought to consider him before me. Why don’t you leave me to my difficulties?
Lady Orreyed	Oh, we’re quite comfortable, dear, thank you⁠—both of us. George and me are so wrapped up in each other, it doesn’t matter where we are. I don’t want to crow over you, old girl, but I’ve got a perfect husband.
	Sir George is now fast asleep, his head thrown back and his mouth open, looking hideous.
Paula	Glancing at Sir George. So you’ve given me to understand.
Lady Orreyed	Not that we don’t have our little differences. Why, we fell out only this very morning. You remember the diamond and ruby tiara Charley Prestwick gave poor dear Connie Tirlemont years ago, don’t you?
Paula	No, I do not.
Lady Orreyed	No? Well, it’s in the market. Benjamin of Piccadilly has got it in his shopwindow, and I’ve set my heart on it.
Paula	You consider it quite necessary?
Lady Orreyed	Yes, because what I say to Dodo is this⁠—a lady of my station must smother herself with hair ornaments. It’s different with you, love⁠—people don’t look for so much blaze from you, but I’ve got rank to keep up; haven’t I?
Paula	Yes.
Lady Orreyed	Well, that was the cause of the little set-to between I and Dodo this morning. He broke two chairs, he was in such a rage. I forgot, they’re your chairs; do you mind?
Paula	No.
Lady Orreyed	You know, poor Dodo can’t lose his temper without smashing something; if it isn’t a chair, it’s a mirror; if it isn’t that, it’s china⁠—a bit of Dresden for choice. Dear old pet! he loves a bit of Dresden when he’s furious. He doesn’t really throw things at me, dear; he simply lifts them up and drops them, like a gentleman. I expect our room upstairs will look rather wrecky before I get that tiara.
Paula	Excuse the suggestion, perhaps your husband can’t afford it.
Lady Orreyed	Oh, how dreadfully changed you are, Paula! Dodo can always mortgage something, or borrow of his ma. What is coming to you!
Paula	Ah!
	She sits at the piano and touches the keys.
Lady Orreyed	Oh, yes, do play! That’s the one thing I envy you for.
Paula	What shall I play?
Lady Orreyed	What was that heavenly piece you gave