(She disappears—closes door.)
Annys. Perhaps I’m not going to win. (She goes to him, smiling.) I hope you’ll win. I would so much rather you won.
Geoffrey. Very kind of you. I’m afraid that won’t make it a certainty.
Annys. (His answer has hardened her again.) How can I? It would not be fair. Without your consent I should never have entered upon it. It was understood that the seat, in any case, would be yours.
Geoffrey. I would rather you considered yourself quite free. In warfare it doesn’t pay to be “fair” to one’s enemy.
Annys. (Still hardening.) Besides, there is no need. There will be other opportunities. I can contest some other constituency. If I win, claim the seat for that.
(A moment.)
Geoffrey. So this is only the beginning? You have decided to devote yourself to a political career?
Annys. Why not?
Geoffrey. If I were to ask you to abandon it, to come back to your place at my side—helping me, strengthening me?