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Pray let me introduce myself to you. My name is Cecily cardew.
How nice of you to like me so much after we have known each other such a comparatively short time. Pray sit down.
With Pleasure!
If you wish.
I hope so
I don’t think so
Oh, not at all, Gwendolen. I am very fond of being looked at.
Oh, no, I live here.
Oh, no. I have no mother, nor, in fact, any relations.
My dear guardian, with the assistance of Miss Prism, has the arduous task of looking after me.
Yes, I am Mr. Wothing’s ward
Pray do! I think that whenever one has anything unpleasant to say, one should always be quite candid.
I beg your pardon, Gwendolen, did you say Ernest?
Oh, but It is not Mr. Ernest who is my guardian. It is his brother-his elder brother.
I am sorry to say they have not been on good terms for a long time.
Quite sure. In fact, I am going to be his.
Dearest Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our little county newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr. Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.
I am afraid you must be under some misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.
It would distress me more than I can tell you Gwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but I feel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly has changed his mind.
Whatever unfortunate entanglement my dear boy may have gotten into, I will never reproach him with it after we are married.
Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax, that I entrapped Ernest into an engagement? How dare you? This is no time for wearing the shallow mask of manners. When I see a spade, I call it a spade.
Yes, as usual.
Oh, yes, a great many. From the top of one of the hills quite close one can see five counties.
I suppose that is why you live in town?
So glad you like it, Miss Fairfax.
Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as people are in London.
Ah! This is what the newspapers call agricultural depression, is it not? I believe the aristocracy are suffering very much from it just at present. It is almost an epidemic, I have been told. May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?
Sugar?
Cake or bread and butter?
Hand that to Miss Fairfax.
To save my poor, innocent, trusting boy from the machinations of any other girl there are not lengths to which I would not go.
It seems to me, Miss Fairfax, that I am trespassing on your valuable time. No doubt you have many other calls of a similar character to make in the neighborhood.
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