The Second Mrs. Tanqueray quotes

Look here; I daresay you two old friends think this treatment very strange, very unkind. So I want you to understand me.

You know a marriage often cools friendships.

What’s the usual course of things? A man’s engagement is given out, he is congratulated, complimented upon his choice; the church is filled with troops of friends, and he goes away happily to a chorus of good wishes.

But—but—do I understand we are to ask nothing? Not even the lady’s name, Aubrey?

The lady, my dear Frank, belongs to the next chapter, and in that her name is Mrs. Aubrey Tanqueray.

Raising his coffee cup. Then, in an old-fashioned way, I propose a toast. Aubrey, Frank, I give you “The Next Chapter!”

You see in the crowd of the ill-used only one pattern; you can’t detect the shades of goodness, intelligence, even nobility there. Well, how should you? The crowd is dimly lighted! And, besides, yours is the way of the world.

My dear Aubrey, I live in the world.

The name we give our little parish of St. James’s.

Do you trouble yourself about what servants think?

Goose! They’re only machines made to wait upon people⁠—and to give evidence in the Divorce Court.

Looking round. Oh, indeed! A snug little dinner!

No, no, hungry for this. What beautiful fruit!

I love fruit when it’s expensive.

He clears a space on the table, places a plate before her, and helps her to fruit. I haven’t dined, Aubrey dear.

Mending the fire. There. But you mustn’t be here long.

Hospitable wretch! I’ve something important to tell you.

No, stay where you are. Turning from him, her face averted. Look here, that was my dream, Aubrey; but the fire went out while I was dozing, and I woke up with a regular fit of the shivers.

She wraps up warmly, I hope; this sunshine is deceptive.

I ran about the lawn last night, after dinner, in satin shoes. Were you anxious about me?

Melting. Really?

After a pause, almost inaudibly. No.

Dreams are only a hash-up of one’s day-thoughts, I suppose you know.

Think intently of anything, and it’s bound to come back to you at night. I don’t cultivate dreams myself.

I’ve gone through it, for the sake of Aubrey and his child, but I—I feel a hundred. Is that a madwoman?

Of course; all jealous women are mad.

He goes out with Aubrey.

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.

Well make our calculations solely for the future, talk about the future, think about the future.

I believe the future is only the past again, entered through another gate.

Tonight proves it. You must see now that, do what we will, go where we will, you’ll be continually reminded of—what I was. I see it.

Isn’t it!

The only great distances it contains are those we carry within ourselves⁠—the distances that separate husbands and wives, for instance.

And so it’ll be with us. You’ll do your best—oh, I know that—you’re a good fellow. But circumstances will be too strong for you in the end, mark my words.

And then, some day—perhaps very suddenly, under a queer, fantastic light at night or in the glare of the morning—that horrid, irresistible truth that physical repulsion forces on men and women will come to you, and you’ll sicken at me.

You’ll see me then, at last, with other people’s eyes; you’ll see me just as your daughter does now, as all wholesome folks see women like me.

And I shall have no weapon to fight with—not one serviceable little bit of prettiness left me to defend myself with!