Peter (smiling). And I'd be a nine-carat link, Denis. I'm made of baser stuff than the great leaders who compose that chain. I'm not worthy to aspire to a seat by their side in Parliament.
Jones. There's such a vice as over-modesty.
Ned. Nay, I like you better for being modest. You'd like us to go out and eome back in an hour or so.
Mrs. G. Say yes to them, Peter. Tell them you'll be a Member of Parliament.
Peter. Members of Parliament need electing first, mother.
O'Cal. And are you doubting that you'll be elected? You've only to say you'll stand, and you can practise putting M.P. after your name this night, for you'll have need to write it certainly.
Peter (going to Margaret). Margaret, what shall I say?
Jones. You must decide this for yourself.
Mar. (coming forward a little reluctantly). Yes, Peter. You must decide. No one can help you there.
Peter. Won't you tell me what you think?