Morning-room in Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. The room is
luxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano is heard
in the adjoining room.

[Lane is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the music has
ceased, Algernon enters.]

ALGERNON.
Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

LANE.
I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

ALGERNON.
I’m sorry for that, for your sake. I don’t play accurately—any one can
play accurately—but I play with wonderful expression. As far as the
piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.

LANE.
Yes, sir.

ALGERNON.
And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber
sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?
