[Fortune glances over his shoulder.  The Duke of st. Olpherts enters; the wreck of a very handsome man, with delicate features, a polished manner, and a smooth, weary voice.  He limps, walking with the aid of a cane.  Fortune retires.]

Agnes.  Duke of St. Olpherts?

St. Olpherts. [Bowing.] Mrs. Ebbsmith?

Agnes.  Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out-of-the-way proceeding of mine.  He doesn’t know I have asked you to call on me today.

St. Olpherts.  So I conclude.  It gives our meeting a pleasant air of adventure.

Agnes.  I shall tell him directly he returns.

St. Olpherts. [Gallantly.] And destroy a cherished secret.

Agnes.  You are an invalid. [Motioning him to be seated.] Pray don’t stand. [Sitting.] Your Grace is a man who takes life lightly.  It will relieve you to hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any business we have together.

St. Olpherts.  I believe I haven’t the reputation of being a sentimental man. [Seating himself.] You send for me, Mrs. Ebbsmith—­

Agnes.  To tell you I have come to regard the suggestion you were good enough to make a week ago—­

St. Olpherts.  Suggestion?

Agnes.  Shakespeare, the musical glasses, you know—­

St. Olpherts.  Oh, yes.  Ha!  Ha!

Agnes.  I’ve come to think it a reasonable one.  At the moment I considered it a gross impertinence.

St. Olpherts.  Written requests are so dependent on a sympathetic reader.

Agnes.  That meeting might have saved you time and trouble.

St. Olpherts.  I grudge neither.

Agnes.  It might perhaps have shown your Grace that your view of life is too narrow; that your method of dealing with its problems wants variety; that, in point of fact, your employment upon your present mission is distinctly inappropriate.  Our meeting today may serve the same purpose.

St. Olpherts.  My view of life?

Agnes.  That all men and women may safely be judged by the standards of the casino and the dancing-garden.

St. Olpherts.  I have found those standards not altogether untrustworthy.  My method—?

Agnes.  To scoff, to sneer, to ridicule.

St. Olpherts.  Ah!  And how much is there, my dear Mrs. Ebbsmith, belonging to humanity that survives being laughed at?

Agnes.  More than you credit, Duke.  For example, I—­I think it possible you may not succeed in grinning away the compact between Mr. Cleeve and myself?

St. Olpherts.  Compact?

Agnes.  Between serious man and woman.

St. Olpherts.  Serious woman.