Frances. I don't think autumn means to come at all this year ... it'll be winter one morning. September has been like a hive of bees, busy and drowsy. By the way, Cousin Mary has another baby ... a girl.
Trebell. [Indifferent to the information.] That's the fourth.
Frances. Fifth. They asked me down for the christening ... but I really couldn't.
Trebell. September's the month for Tuscany. The car chose to break down one morning just as we were starting North again; so we climbed one of the little hills and sat for a couple of hours, while I composed a fifteenth century electioneering speech to the citizens of Siena.
Frances. [With a half smile.] Have you a vein of romance for holiday time?
Trebell. [Dispersing the suggestion.] Not at all romantic ... nothing but figures and fiscal questions. That was the hardest commercial civilisation there has been, though you only think of its art and its murders now.
Frances. The papers on both sides have been very full of you ... saying you hold the moral balance ... or denying it.
Trebell. An interviewer caught me at Basle. I offered to discuss the state of the Swiss navy.
Frances. Was that before Lord Horsham wrote to you?
Trebell. Yes, his letter came to Innsbruck. He "expressed" it somehow. Why ... it isn't known that he will definitely ask me to join?