Answer:
c they are part of the wealthy,
Established elite
explanation:
The stage directions describe an elaborate house full of high-class people. also, I just took the test on Plato and the correct answer is c
Answer:
it is c i am taking the test and is you want to check my answer i have the text
Explanation:
Stage Set: The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house in Grosvenor Square, a large garden square in London.
[The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests, and at the top of the staircase stands Lady Chiltern, a woman of about twenty-seven years of age, who receives the guests as they come up. Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with wax lights, which illuminate a large eighteenth-century French tapestry—representing the Triumph of Love, from a design by Boucher—that is stretched on the staircase wall. On the right is the entrance to the music room. The sound of a string quartet is faintly heard. The entrance on the left leads to other reception rooms. Mrs. Marchmont and Lady Basildon are seated together on a King Louis the Sixteenth sofa.]
MRS. MARCHMONT: Going on to the Hartlocks' tonight, Margaret?
LADY BASILDON: I suppose so. Are you?
MRS. MARCHMONT: Yes. Horribly banal parties they give, don't they?
LADY BASILDON: Horribly banal! Never know why I go. Never know why I go anywhere. They're all so tedious.
MRS. MARCHMONT: I come here to be educated.
LADY BASILDON: Ah! I hate being educated!
MRS. MARCHMONT: So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the commercial classes, doesn't it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always telling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I come here to try to find one.
LADY BASILDON: [Looking round through her spectacles.] I don't see anybody here tonight whom one could possibly call a serious purpose. The man whom I sat next to at dinner talked to me about his wife the whole time.
MRS. MARCHMONT: How very trivial of him!
LADY BASILDON: Terribly trivial! What did the man next to you talk about?
MRS. MARCHMONT: About myself.
LADY BASILDON: [Languidly.] And were you interested?
MRS. MARCHMONT: [Shaking her head.] Not in the smallest degree.
LADY BASILDON: What martyrs we are, dear Margaret!
MRS. MARCHMONT: [Rising.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia!
