"It would indeed—a member of Parliament!" Nash declared.
"Ah, I have the honour——?" murmured Mrs. Rooth, looking gratified and mystified.
Nick explained that she had no honour at all, and meanwhile Madame Carré had been questioning the girl "Chère madame, I can do nothing with your daughter: she knows too much!" she broke out. "It's a pity, because I like to catch them wild."
"Oh she's wild enough, if that's all! And that's the very point, the question of where to try," Mrs. Rooth went on. "Into what do I launch her—upon what dangerous stormy sea? I've thought of it so anxiously."
"Try here—try the French public: they're so much the most serious," said Gabriel Nash.
"Ah no, try the English: there's such a rare opening!" Sherringham urged in quick opposition.
"Oh it isn't the public, dear gentlemen. It's the private side, the other people—it's the life, it's the moral atmosphere."
"Je ne connais qu'une scène,—la nôtre," Madame Carré declared. "I'm assured by every one who knows that there's no other."
"Very correctly assured," said Mr. Nash. "The theatre in our countries is puerile and barbarous."
"There's something to be done for it, and perhaps mademoiselle's the person to do it," Sherringham contentiously suggested.