Oh!
SIR GEOFFREY. [_Rising._] Hullo! Don't be afraid--it's only I!
LADY TORMINSTER. What a start you gave me Why haven't you gone to bed?
SIR GEOFFREY. I'm tired of going to bed. One always has to get up again,
and it becomes monotonous. Why haven't you gone to sleep?
LADY TORMINSTER. I don't know--it's too hot, or something. I've come for a
book.
SIR GEOFFREY. Let me choose one for you.
[_He goes to the table._
LADY TORMINSTER. Why were you sitting in the dark?
SIR GEOFFREY. Because the light annoyed me. What sort of book will you
have? A red one or a green one?
LADY TORMINSTER. Is there a virtue in the colour of the binding?
SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? They're all the same inside. There are three
hundred ways, they say, of cooking a potato--there are as many of dressing
up a lie, and calling it a novel. But it's always the same old lie. Here
take this. [_He hands her a book._] Popular Astronomy. That will send you
to sleep.
LADY TORMINSTER. The stars frighten me. But I'll try it. Good-night.
SIR GEOFFREY. Good-night.
LADY TORMINSTER. And you really had better go to bed.
SIR GEOFFREY. I move as an amendment that you sit down and talk.
LADY TORMINSTER. At this time of night!
SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? It's day in the Antipodes.
LADY TORMINSTER. And in this attire!
[_She glances at her peignoir._
SIR GEOFFREY. Pooh! You are more dressed than you were at dinner. That's
awfully rude, isn't it? But then, you see, you're not my hostess
now--you're a spirit, walking in the night.
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