Drummle. [Laying a hand on Aubrey's shoulder.] And you are quite prepared, my friend, to forfeit the esteem of your little parish? Aubrey Aubrey. Aubrey. I avoid mortification by shifting from one parish to another. I give up Pall Mall for the Surrey hills; leave off varnishing my boots and double the thickness of the soles. Drummle. Drummle. And your skin—do you double the thickness of that also? Aubrey. Aubrey. I know you think me a fool, Cayley—you needn't infer that I'm a coward into the bargain. No! I know what I'm doing, and I do it deliberately, defiantly. I'm alone; I injure no living soul by the[38] step I'm going to take; and so you can't urge the one argument which might restrain me. Of course, I don't expect you to think compassionately, fairly even, of the woman whom I—whom I am drawn to—— [38] Drummle. Drummle. My dear Aubrey, I assure you I consider Mrs.—Miss Jarman—Mrs. Ray—Miss Ray—delightful. But I confess there is a form of chivalry which I gravely distrust, especially in a man of—our age. Aubrey. Aubrey. Thanks. I've heard you say that from forty till fifty a man is at heart either a stoic or a satyr. Drummle.
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