Trebell. For its own sake.
Frances. [Turning away.] It's hopeless ... you don't understand.
Trebell. [Helpless; almost like a deserted child.] I've been trying to ... all through the night.
Frances. [Turning back enlightened a little.] That's more the trouble then than the Cabinet question?
He shakes himself to his feet and begins to pace the room; his keenness coming back to him, his brow knitting again with the delight of thought.
Trebell. Oh ... as to me against the world ... I'm fortified with comic courage. [Then turning on her like any examining professor.] Now which do you believe ... that Man is the reformer, or that the Time brings forth such men as it needs and lobster-like can grow another claw?
Frances. [Watching this new mood carefully.] I believe that you'll be missed from Lord Horsham's Cabinet.
Trebell. The hand-made statesman and his hand-made measure! They were out of place in that pretty Tory garden. Those men are the natural growth of the time. Am I?
Frances. Just as much. And wasn't your bill going to be such a good piece of work? That can't be thrown away ... wasted.
Trebell. Can one impose a clever idea upon men and women? I wonder.