horsham. Blackborough will tell you so. Good-night.
So farrant departs, leaving the two cousins together. cantelupe has not moved and now faces horsham just as accusingly.
cantelupe. Cyril, this is tragic.
horsham. [More to himself than in answer.] Yes . . most annoying.
cantelupe. Lucifer, son of the morning! Why is it always the highest who fall?
horsham shies fastidiously at this touch of poetry.
horsham. No, my dear Charles, let us above all things keep our mental balance. Trebell is a most capable fellow. I'd set my heart on having him with me . . he'll be most awkward to deal with in opposition. But we shall survive his loss and so would the country.
cantelupe. [Desperately.] Cyril, promise me there shall be no compromise over this measure.
horsham. [Charmingly candid.] No . . no unnecessary compromise, I promise you.